Bathrooms and Playrooms: What Shouldn't Have Been
by Achlies
Summary: D/s. One of them I hated, the other I loved, and I needed both inexplicably and sometimes dangerously. Freud would probably have something witty but chauvinistic to say about this. Or he'd laugh at my stupidity. I'd accept either right now. BxE BxJ AH/OOC
1. Disclaimer, Prologue

**Disclaimer**

All Human.

Some of the sentences, though not many, are direct quotes from sources I don't remember. I do not mean to plagiarize, so if anyone recognizes a quote from somewhere, please let me know so I can give it its proper due.

I did some research and I read some other Dom/sub stories, but as far as what I include in mine, I really don't know a whole lot about the culture. What I do know, however, is that I have a lot of respect for it. So for whatever is incorrect or stereotypical or exceedingly unfair or offensive, I apologize. Please know that the characters I use, and their behaviors, are not a direct result of my personal beliefs. My Jasper is . . . unique and I understand that. Know that I did my best.

So there.

Let us begin.

* * *

**Prologue**

This is a love story. No. This is a hate story. A story of being in love with one man, hating another, and needing both dangerously and, sometimes, inexplicably. This is a wretched story, and a story of disgust. Self-disgust, disgust of people and their bullshit tendencies, just disgust. And a little anger.

This is a story of dry, sarcastic, and self-deprecating humor. Of men and women who come together and fall apart . . . and come together again. For no reason. For the worst reasons.

I guess you could say this is a funny story. I can be funny. But mostly, I'm just pathetic. Mostly, people pity me. When they're not annoyed by me.

But, above all, this is my story. The story of Bella fucking Swan, the worst and most pathetic type of girl.

Well, I suppose it is more of a love story. Because Bella loves. But she hates just as hard and so much easier. I loved them both, but I also hated them. Loved them for their individual qualities and hated them for not being a single entity.

But we all want what's worst for us . . . right?

It happened too quickly. I fell too hard, too fast. And one of them responded the same. A few days of knowing him and he was already convinced he was in love with me. Already comforting me with a hug when a hesitant shoulder pat would have been more appropriate. A few days later and I belonged to someone else.

The other one, well I hated him. Hated everything about him. But he could fix me. I needed him.

I made a friend in this story. Well, two friends, I suppose. One turned out to be flaky, the other a straight up bitch.

This story will have parts that seem too quick and parts that go on for-fucking-ever. Like the first time in Edward's bathroom. Kind of long. And not all of it makes sense. And it's been a few years since it's all happened, so maybe some parts are missing. And even more are exaggerated. So it moves kind of quickly, but not really. But it's all necessary and I urge the victim reader to stick with it. Because it's that type of important. This story is more like scenes. The chapters, like scenes. There's not a lot of "After dinner, we went to the park and swam in the ocean for a bit before we headed to get ice cream." It's more like, "This important thing happened at the beach. Then this important thing happened over ice cream." End chapter.

Because these days are the most important in my life. And you must know it all to know me.

The purpose? I'd say it was somewhere between "My life is so interesting!" and "For the love of all that is holy, don't be an idiot like I've been." The first sounds better, so I suppose I'll stick with it. But I've been known to waver in my convictions. Without warning. And sometimes maliciously.

And the title? Well, I think you'll figure it out by the end. Because undying love was never really my thing.

And all in 10 days. Phenomenal.


	2. Day 1, Part 1:  The Arrival of Jasper

**Day 1: Part 1**

**The Arrival of Jasper, Supreme Ruler of Doms**

I spun the tumbler around in my hand again, flicking my wrist hard enough so that I could hear the ice cubes hit the glass. There weren't many cubes left. There had only been two to begin with, but all that remained were a few shards that had broken off from their respective homes. Little lost shards of ice, swirling precariously in a Bella-made brown vortex of alcohol.

I hadn't read the brand or year of the scotch when the drink was poured for me. I recognized the green bottle with the yellow placard, but I didn't really know enough about scotch to properly infer what it was. All I knew is that it burned my eyes as I drank it and burned my throat as it went down. And as far as scotch was concerned, that's all I was looking for.

I took another sip and looked around the room. My stomach flipped uneasily.

_Breathe. In one, two. Out one, two. In one, two. Out one, two._

I took a bigger sip this time after I realized that the burn was pretty muted. I wondered, for not the first time tonight, why the hell I had asked for it on the rocks. Scotch by itself was a wondrous thing, but I always nursed the drink and was now only left with the water-downed remnants of its previous glory. I crinkled my nose in disgust.

"So, when did you become a sixty-year-old man, exactly?"

I looked up without moving my head. Emmett and Rosalie sat across from me on a burgundy leather love seat in their over-decorated living room. His arm rested on her shoulder and he had pulled her towards him in a sort of awkward half-hug. She looked comfortable enough, though her skin-tight patent leather dress may have suggested otherwise. He was absently playing with the leather spaghetti strap that held her ridiculous outfit together, his thick fingers working the small fabric, touching it without moving it.

Rosalie adjusted her weight and I flinched at the squeaking sound her outfit made against the leather couch.

"Scotch is not an old man's drink," I said, raising my glass to Emmett. The remaining shards of ice tinkled on the side of the tumbler and my stomach flipped uneasily again. "It's a classy drink and I scream of old fashioned class."

He saluted me. "Damn straight you do, kid."

"Kid," I scoffed. "Please."

The silence fell quickly and tensely and I was sure it was in no small part due to the fact that I was absolutely radiating nervousness. In response to my flailing emotional climate, generally laid-back Emmett was fidgeting uneasily with Rosalie's strap and I wanted to tell him to knock it the fuck off so I could focus on not vomiting back up the small amount of scotch I had managed to suck down.

I had taken residence in the only one-person chair in the house; a gaudy, 19th century Victorian piece with a straight back and dark cherry trim. I had winced when Rosalie offered it to me. There were big buttons all over the chair and they pressed uncomfortably into the backs of my thighs, just as I knew they would. My knees were pulled to my chest to compensate and my left arm was wound tightly around them, my sleeve balled up and around my fingers. My jeans were well worn, and the thin material around my knees made a calming scratching sounds as I ran my chin over it. My right hand held my drink.

"So," I said, taking another large sip. "What time are Tanya and her Dom getting here?" The question was meant to be casual, but my voice squeaked on the last word. Emmett grinned at me.

Rosalie craned her neck a little towards the kitchen, probably so she could catch the time on the stove. "About five minutes or so."

"Have you thought about what you're going to ask her?" Emmett said. He was grinning at me in a lazy way, but he picked up one of Rosalie's straps and snapped it against her skin. She gave him a reproachful look.

Of course I had. One year out of the culture and I had already lost my grip on proper etiquette protocol when it came time to attending house parties. Rosalie was already fully dressed in her burlesque get-up and Emmett had donned in an all-black outfit, though he had foregone the leather and chosen jeans and a button-up instead. I hadn't known what to wear but I'd gotten it half-right with a pair of black jeans. My red t-shirt might have been a problem, but Rosalie hadn't offered anything else to wear so I figured I was in the clear.

Emmett had taken the liberty to help reacquaint me with the culture by calling up an old friend and his sub, so I sat, with quite the bated breath, waiting for Tanya to arrive. I had made a list of questions I was going to ask her when she got here, written with a new purple pen in a new purple notebook, but had forgotten it at home. I had spent a good portion of the past hour trying to remember what I had written, but the only images I was getting were the endless trips I made up and down the notebook aisle at the office supplies store, trying to find the notebook that best reflected me, as a person.

I had gone with purple out of blind indecision.

Fuck. _In one, two. Out one, two._

"Have you told her about James?" I croaked, trying to keep my tone light. I took one, deep breath to try to relieve the bubbling in my stomach. It had been an all-out war today, battling to force the contents of my stomach to stay _in _my stomach. I had succeeded thus far, but I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to last the night without vomiting at least a little.

"Nope, that's all you," Emmett said, giving me one of those sad faces reserved only for when you feel sorry for someone. I frowned back.

"I'm fine," I said.

Rosalie shifted her weight again and I cringed.

"Something the matter, dear?" she asked.

"I'm fine." And I was, in the literal sense of the word. My nausea wasn't completely under control, but I wasn't ready to hop up and book it the fuck out of here quite yet. I had come over way too early, too fraught with nerves to spend any more time at home, and too anxious not to stay away.

It was probably best that I reign in the dramatics; I was, after all, a guest in their home. A guest who was trying viciously to remain calm. I looked up at them, ready to flash a fake grin, but they were both staring at me with the same, shared expectant look; the one two people have when they've known each other way too long and begin forgetting they started out as two different people. Something was telling me that my eyes should be misting at the sweet sight, but my stomach rolled and I shook my tumbler instead.

I wanted to talk about James, but the whole thing made Rosalie very nervous. Instead, I resigned myself to counting down the minutes until Tanya was supposed to show up. I had spent the better part of the evening with my forehead pressed against the cold window of my car before I finally got the moxy to get my ass over here. I wasn't about to blow it so easily.

_In one, two. Out one, two. _

I was determined to remain calm. Which is why the scotch had so quickly been introduced to me. A history of a few moments of panic and Emmett was suddenly unwilling to let me in the house without at least a little alcohol in me. Said that vomit was almost impossible to get out of an Oriental rug or some such.

The doorbell rang and I was successful in not squeaking in protest, but I couldn't stop my stomach from contracting. _In one, two. Out one, two. _Rosalie flashed me a very excited smile and hopped off the couch, her outfit squeaking as she walked towards the front door. Emmett, too, stood up and held out his hand for the scotch.

"Really?" I asked, my voice tight. I stuck my bottom lip out.

"You're not supposed to be drinking at these parties," he said in a weirdly stern voice. Then he grinned. "Humor me."

I sighed and handed him the drink, but not before I downed whatever was left. I scrunched my face up in an exaggerated grimace as I swallowed. The liquid finally burned going down my throat and my stomach rolled in protest.

"Worth it?" he asked.

I gave him an angry glare and he just chuckled, walking through the living room into the kitchen. I heard the clinking of glass on glass and assumed he was sticking the tumbler into the dishwasher.

"Bella," Rosalie hissed from the foyer. I turned towards her. She stomped her foot a little and pointed to the ground with the angry jab of her finger. "Get over here."

I contemplated her order for a moment. I _could_ go over there, where she had one had placed ominously on the doorknob. Or I could make a dash up the stairs, apologizing on the way up that I was going to get sick and lock myself in Emmett's bathroom before anyone else arrived.

The doorbell rang again and Rosalie looked like she was about to pop.

"Are you allowed to talk to me like that?" I asked, grinning a little. With my teeth pulled over my lips like they were, I'm sure the grin looked more like a snarl. I pressed my hands against my face and scrubbed it, trying to loosen up my muscles. The last thing Rosalie and Emmett needed was an angry-looking guest trying to angrily worm information out of another guest. Politeness and all that stuff.

She rolled her eyes and another wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. There was no way in hell that scotch was going to taste half as good coming up as it did going down.

"_Now_,"she whispered. I sighed and collected myself off the uncomfortable chair and made my way slowly across the room.

Rosalie opened the door when I was next to her and I braced myself for the cold weather outside. It had snowed a few nights ago and though it hadn't snowed since then, there was enough of it left so that I had to put the snow chains on my tires. Emmett was over and had watched me, with quite the amused expression on his face, as I fumbled with the damn things for almost an hour before shooing me away to put them on himself. Twenty minutes flat it took him.

I was pretty sure I wasn't ready to forgive him.

"Bella!"

Rosalie opened the first door and undoubtedly the most beautiful girl I had ever seen stepped into the house, holding her arms open wide for me. Her hair was a kind of blonde and red color and fell in long waves down the front of her jacket. It looked so damn thick that I wanted to reach out and touch it. But her hat stopped me short. It resembled some sort of small, furry beast, skinned and contoured to line the bridge of the hat, topped with a long peacock feather. I squinted my eyes. The feather was the wrong colors, though, browns and reds instead of the usual blues and greens. I smirked.

Rosalie sniffed and I looked at her. "Bella," she said, "this is Tanya."

"Hey, Tanya," I said, pulling myself together, and waved a hand at her outstretched arms. Undeterred by my half-assed hello, she closed the remaining few feet between us to hug me properly. I made a mental note to remind myself later that she had personal boundary issues and a penchant for overdoses in the form of Chanel No. 5.

"Rosalie, it's so good to see you!" Tanya said, releasing me and giving Rosalie two pecks on each cheek.

"Tanya, my dear, it's been too long," Rosalie said and I scoffed a little under my breath. I had never been one to dress in the types of outfits that Rosalie had allowed us to bear witness to today, but surely she didn't expect to pull of Susie homemaker wearing _that_.

I took a peak around Tanya, who was now staring at me with the same expectant face I had narrowly avoided earlier on the chair. Emmett and Rosalie were the only two people in the world who still didn't have automatic porch lights and I couldn't see anything beyond the first few cement stairs of the walkway. The dark night and the foggy spout of smoke coming down from the chimney atop their house blocked out all lines of sight. Still, I tried to see beyond it all.

"Sir will be in, in a minute," Tanya said, correctly interpreting my stare out the front door. "But you and I need to have a girl chat."

"Living room is all yours, ladies," Rosalie said, closing the front door behind Tanya, who was in the process of delicately removing her hat. She handed it to Rosalie who gave me an amused sideways glance before taking it into the kitchen. I briefly thought about following her and demanding another scotch, sans the ice, but Tanya grabbed my hand before I could act on it. She pulled me into the living room and I resumed my original spot on the Victorian chair while she took the leather couch.

She sunk into it gracefully and crossed her lean legs underneath her. "Start from the beginning."

The kitchen suddenly went very quiet. I took a deep breath and sprawled out on the chair, sinking downward until I could cross my ankles on the coffee table. I pushed aside a small stack of ornamental magazines with the heel of my shoe before settling more comfortably.

"What has Emmett told you?" I asked.

"I talked to Rosalie, actually," she said. "She told me the basics. Like the fact that you were in a bad relationship. She wanted to make sure that you told me your side without any," she flounced her hand in the air, "editing, I guess, on her part."

"Right," I said, jerking my head downward. _In one, two. Out, one two. _"You don't smoke, by chance, do you?" I asked. She shook her head. "Okay, well, I had this all written out in a cute notebook, but I forgot it at home and I can't remember what I wrote in it so I'm a little nervous." I took another deep breath.

_For fuck's sake, girl, stop rambling._

"Well," I said, "about a year ago I ended things with the only Dom I've ever had and after some good old fashioned soul searching, decided that I wanted to try the life out again."

She still had that expectant look on her face.

"What?" I snapped. Distinct, frantic whispering came from the kitchen and then Emmett cleared his throat and hissed a quick and heated "shh."

"And . . ." Tanya said, still looking at my face. My stomach churned.

"Um, well," I said, surprising myself by being flustered. "That's it. So, you're here to remind me about everything."

For some reason she was still wearing her coat. "So what do you need to know, exactly? Rosalie really didn't go into the specifics."

"Uh, well, like I said, I left my notebook at home. They were a little more organized than what I can say right now, but let's see." I held up my hand and began ticking the question off. "You know, who I can talk to, who I can't, what the dress code is, whether I'm allowed to talk at all, how the parties go." I shrugged. "Everything."

I suddenly felt very foolish and wished I had that scotch with me. I could see the bottle from where I was; the liquor cabinet was propped over some cheesy wet bar in the far corner of the living room. The green bottle, half-full, was standing idly in the locked cabinet and was doing nothing short of taunting me with its delicious, unreachable contents.

"Hmm," she said. "How about you tell me a little about James, first?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "James was my first Dom," I said. "He . . . was bad for me, in all senses of the word. He absolutely controlled me. I met him at one of these parties," I continued, flicking my wrist absently around the room. "And he was great. Charming, gorgeous, manly."

I felt my expression harden with my words. James was an absolute cliché; he exuded everything wrong and devious about the culture and used his cocky, bullshit attitude as a means for reeling the naïve girls into his life. He was angry, semi-violent, and a sexual predator. My eight months under his roof and under his control seemed otherworldly to me now, sitting in Emmett and Rosalie's ugly living room and discussing it all with a girl I didn't know.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then closed it when I realized I had no words. But then Tanya smiled at me and dropped the expectant look . . . and the word vomit happened. "We were together for only a few weeks before we moved in together. I swear to god it was the most magical thing that's ever happened to me. I was in love and it felt amazing. He sucked me in really quickly and it was just . . ."

"Unreal," Tanya suggested. Her poignancy surprised me. "And you turned a blind eye to a lot of what you shouldn't have."

"Yeah," I said softly, not bothering to hide my shock. "I felt so lucky. That I had found who I was made for just like that. He calls every once in a while, under the guise that he's just calling to say 'hi.' But he wants to see if I'm with someone. He comes over to my apartment sometimes, too. But I don't spend much time there anymore and after a particularly nasty run-in with Emmett, where James got the ever-living shit beat out of him, he hasn't come since."

And then this awkward, weird sort of moment passed between us. She was smiling in a blasé way at me and my eyebrows were raised far above where they should be, but I felt a burning sort of thing in the pit of my stomach. It was somewhere between full-blown nausea and vague nostalgia and I swallowed hard. I eyed the scotch again.

"So, are there any particulars you wanted to go over before everyone gets here?" Tanya asked after I stayed quiet for a moment. With some effort, I looked away from the wet bar and back to her. I was a little embarrassed by the odd, intimate moment that passed between us and my stomach agreed as it flipped, almost painfully.

_In one, two. Out one, two._

I took my legs off the coffee table and pulled them to my chest. I leaned my cheek against the little spot of thin material over my knees. "I honestly don't know. I'm feeling really overwhelmed."

"Talk to me."

I would have, but there was just too much to say. James was a pivotal era of my life and his presence, even though now a year in the past, had irreparably marred pieces of my personality. I was cynical, angry, and moody and I best channeled it through sarcasm and condescension. Emmett and Rosalie were understanding but permanently wary and my resentment towards it was building into something tangible and bitter. The air was always tainted when I was here.

Now I heard Rosalie clear her throat and I blushed fervently when the corners of Tanya's mouth twitched upwards.

"I like you, Tanya," I said. And a kind of uncomfortable warmth permeated my neck and I reached down, ready to pretend to fondle my necklace to make sure I wasn't sweaty, but then Emmett trekked back from the kitchen with a massive platter of food between his massive fingers and some ease returned to my body.

"Where'd you get that awesome hat?" I blurted to Tanya as Emmett rounded the coffee table to place the tray between us. He paused for a moment, bent down over the table.

"You like it?" Tanya asked, smiling brightly.

"I don't know about you," I said to Tanya, but looking at Emmett, "but I surely don't use awesome as a euphemism for ugly."

Rosalie cleared her throat very loudly from the kitchen. I grinned.

I looked at Emmett as Tanya began to ramble; he was still poised awkwardly over the tray on the table, looking a little mystified and anxious as he listened to her. His brow was pulled together in the middle and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, looking for all the world like a confused, beefed-up baby.

". . . found it in Paris, and you know Sir," she said, patting Emmett's shoulder delicately. "Always wants to make me happy. Do you know who it was created by?"

_Oh, for fuck's sake._

Emmett unbent him and he and I listened as Tanya embroiled herself in the midst of the surprisingly dull tale about the origins of the hat (which was mink, apparently, but there was just no fucking way), and smiled hugely at Emmett's expression. He backchanneled appropriately, nodding and humming when her eyes met his, but for the most part he was sporting a "what the fuck just happened?" sort of look. It was endearing.

Tanya clapped her hands together. "And that's that!"

"Brilliant story," I said solemnly, nodding my head.

"Absolutely," Emmett deadpanned, smiling a little.

I grinned wickedly at his blank expression. "Emmett loves hearing those types of stories from you."

Tanya looked from me to Emmett. "Really?"

I nodded again. From the corner of my eye, I saw Emmett's hand snake around his back, his middle finger upright and decidedly proud. He wiggled it a little.

Rosalie flitted into the room, shooting a nasty glance in my direction. I shrugged my shoulders up a bit, feigning innocence. When she reached Emmett, she gently curled his middle finger down and wrapped an arm around his waist. She opened her mouth to speak, but the doorbell rang and I felt like my world had stopped.

My hands flew to my stomach like a fucking retracting rubber band and I squeezed my eyes together tightly. _In one, two. Out one, two._

"I can't do this," I breathed at Rosalie, but she seemed just as engrossed in the front door as Tanya was, who was gracefully uncoiling herself from the couch, and my comment blew past both of them. Tanya traipsed over to the door, quickly took of her coat, and threw it on the standing coat rack in the foyer. Her outfit rivaled Rosalie's for absurdity; black patent leather, a strapless, bustier top and a hemline that barely covered her ass. She pulled it downward a little before she reached for the door handle. My throat suddenly felt a little tight and I gripped one of the large buttons on the chair.

"Jasper Whitlock is Tanya's Dom, so she answers the door if she can," Rosalie whispered. She looked over at me and took in my palled expression. "It's all right," she said, unwinding herself from Emmett. She unclasped my fingers from the button I was gripping. "Relax."

_In one, two. Out one, two. In one, two. Out one, two._

"Master," I heard Tanya say and I slowly brought my eyes from Rosalie's face to the front door. Rosalie tried to wipe off the thin sheen of sweat that had broken across my forehead, but I swatted her hand away petulantly.

Jasper was, thankfully, not wearing anything as absurd as Tanya's hat, and for that I was grateful. In fact, he was immaculately dressed. His back was to me and he was stomping the snow off his shoes on the mat in front of the door. Absently, I was surprised by his footwear. He was wearing a pair of very shiny, very black pointed dress shoes which seemed in an odd contrast to his more casual dark jeans and dark button-up. Tanya already had a fist over one shoulder of his businessman's trench coat and was helping him maneuver out of it. Why it took two people to shimmy the thing off of him, I wasn't sure, but as far as formalities went, it seemed a little like overkill.

_Brilliant. Passing judgment is completely appropriate right now. Deflection, much?_

Rosalie leaned towards me. "Jasper and Tanya are very formal," she whispered. "You'll see them do things that you've never seen with Emmett and me."

"Right," I said as Tanya hung up Jasper's coat on top of hers on the coat rack. Jasper bowed his head a little and shook it. Small flecks of snow detached themselves from his curls and rained in sharp pitters on the rubber floor mat in front of the door. He ran both of his hands through it, pushing it back on his head.

"Thank you, Tanya," he said, and I almost gasped, surprised. From the back, it was clear that he was in relatively decent shape. His jeans were tight and his shirt was tucked in, and his body shape suggested compact, lithe muscles. But his voice seemed to oppose the manliness of his form. It was definitely deep; the kind of bass deep that would suggest a man twice his age, but without the gravelly undertone years of bad habits would morph. But it was almost lyrical in it's quality; beautiful, if I was so inclined to call it that.

And if his voice was any indication of his beauty, when he finally turned around to greet Tanya properly, his face would have compensated for any lacking. Square, trim jaw line and a straight, linear nose let up to large eyes. Not the weird, baby doll looking large, but just _large_.

Fuck me eyes.

I hadn't realized that Rosalie had left my side until she was shaking hands with him. He leaned in for a hug and Rosalie wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. He smiled warmly at her and chuckled.

"Well, hello, Rosalie," he said.

Emmett jabbed me with his thumb and heaved a mockingly dramatic sigh.

"I think she's got a little thing for him," he said, winking. "You should see the two of them sometimes."

"What do you mean?" I choked out, turning away. Rosalie had her hand on the tops of Jasper's arms and was all smiles and giggles as he spoke to her. His head was cocked and held too high to look natural, considering he was many inches taller than she was. Tanya looked especially at ease, her fingers intertwined loosely with Jasper's as she watched his and Rosalie's exchange.

"Jasper's a bit of a legend in the culture around here," Emmett whispered. "Rosalie still can't believe that he likes coming over to our house. She likes that he likes it here and gets all fan-girly whenever she sees him."

Jasper's arm snaked around Tanya's waist and he pulled her to him a little. She pressed her palm flat against his stomach and laughed loudly at something Rosalie said, too quiet for me to hear over the wet pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.

"Are you, like, worried or something?" I asked, shaking my head a little. It was really annoying not be able to control my body. There wasn't really a fight or flight mechanism in me; it was either collapse in a piling heap of pathetic or a total freak out.

"Nah," he said. "It's been happening for years now and she's not stupid enough to leave all this." I looked at him as he pressed his palms to the side of his chest and ran his hands down his torso and past his hips.

I snorted loudly. "Thanks, Sasquatch," I said, jabbing him in the ribs with my elbow.

"Damn girl, you got some pointy elbows," he said, rubbing the side of his torso with a pout on his face. "You are like a gangly twelve year old in a twenty-something's body."

"Shove it up your ass," I quipped, flipping him the bird.

"Bella?"

I looked over to the foyer and was disconcerted to see three pairs of eyes looking back.

"Oh," I said, "hey." I dropped my hand and cringed as a hot mess of a blush ran from my neck, up past my cheeks, and onto my forehead. Emmett grabbed my hand and lifted me straight up off the chair in one massive tug. He put his hand on the small of my back to steady me as my jellied legs buckled. "Sorry," I breathed.

Jasper's arm was still wrapped around Tanya and Rosalie was standing with her arms all akimbo, giving me one hell of a nasty glare as I made it across the room. I had only been here for a little over an hour and I had barely succeeded in not vomiting all over the house. Multiple times. If she didn't want me to embarrass everyone, I was going to need a little more leeway than _that_.

Rosalie was pissed, but Tanya was smiling stupidly at me, her eyes hooded like she was about to pass the fuck out.

"Bella, this is Jasper, Tanya's Dom," Rosalie said, her voice a smooth liquid as she spoke. I knew that voice. She was pissed.

I walked the remaining space that joined the foyer and the living room until I was standing just outside the little half-circle the threesomes' bodies had formed. I extended my hand to Jasper.

He bowed his head slowly. The movement had a feline grace to it. "Bella," he said and I actually shivered as he said my name. There was a slight drawl to his voice, like he was born in the south but moved up north sometime in his childhood. Remnants of a previous life. He raised his head back up. My hand was still extended and when I didn't move it, he glanced at it and then back up at my face. His lips tightened a little.

I shook my hand up and down, mimicking a handshake and he frowned. "Nice to meet you, too," I said.

An awkward, tense silence filled the living room and I blushed furiously. Rosalie's face was absolutely livid. Her eyes were so fucking big I thought for sure they were going to pop straight out of her pretty head. Tanya seemed completely oblivious to the whole thing and Jasper was just . . . _looking_ at me. Like, I was clearly there, but in a way that suggested he was regarding me with the same level of interest one would regard a floor lamp. I cocked my head at him, suddenly annoyed. Who the fuck was this guy to come into a house that, in many ways belonged more to me than it did to him, and treat me like I had just committed some hugely massive sub and Dom faux pas?

I opened my mouth to ask him just that, but Emmett bounded up behind me and brushed past me to throw an arm around Jasper's shoulder. He laughed loudly and I shut my mouth. "A bit of a whippersnapper, this one," he chided, sticking his thumb out towards me.

"And _I'm_ the sixty-year-old man?" I asked grumpily and crossed my arms over my chest. "Who the hell still says 'whippersnapper'?"

Emmett laughed again and patted Jasper on the chest with his free hand. "What can I get you to drink, my man?"

"I'll get it," Tanya said, taking Jasper's hand. She turned him around and he followed, his eyes still on me as she led him into the kitchen. I scowled at him and, for a brief second saw the edges of his lips curl upward before he and Tanya's leather-clad bottom disappeared behind the kitchen wall.

I turned back to Rosalie and Emmett.

"Pleasant," I said, re-crossing my arms around my chest.

Emmett frowned.

"What?" I asked. Rosalie's arms were still propped on her waist, but her face had calmed a little. She and Emmett exchanged a heavy look. "What?" I snapped. "I didn't do anything."

Rosalie pressed her lips together. "We thought about telling you this, but weren't going to unless it came up."

"Yeah?"

"Jasper's really . . . prim and proper," she said, lowering her hands from her hips. "And really cold with people he doesn't know."

"Okay . . ." I trailed off.

Emmett nodded. "Sorry, honey. Nothing to do with you. Though maybe cut back on the swearing a bit tonight?"

I bristled at the suggestion that it might have, in fact, had something to do with me. "Well yeah, I didn't exactly do anything to merit it. And who the hell is he to decide whether or not I swear?"

Rosalie and Emmett exchanged glances again. I didn't even bother hiding the fact that I rolled my eyes this time. "Out with it."

Rosalie stepped forward and sort of held her arms out like she was about to surrender. "Please, Bella," she said. "Him coming here means a lot to me and I don't want anything to spoil it."

_I taint the air when I'm here._

I nodded softly, letting my eyes trail to the ground.

Emmett sighed. "I've been talking for years about you to Jasper and Tanya and I guess I sort of figured that he'd warm up to you right away. Because he kind of, sort of knows you."

"Only nice things, I'm sure?" I muttered as the tops of Emmett's shoes began to blur.

"Of course, dear," Rosalie said, patting me softly on the shoulder.

"Great," I said dryly. "So why did I come again?"

"You don't have to deal with Jasper tonight," Emmett said, throwing one massive arm around me. He brought me into a hug that lifted me straight off the ground. I gave an awkward squeal of delight as my feet left the floor. "Only Tanya."

He set me down and ruffled the top of my head with his hand. My eyes burned as static electricity caused the top strands of my hair to stick up. I batted his hand away and smoothed down my hair as best I could without a goddamn mirror. I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes and laughed, maybe a little too loudly.


	3. Day 1, Part 2: The Arrival of Edward

**Day 1: Part 2**

**The Arrival of Edward, Master of the Testosterone World**

I was staring at Jasper, but he refused to look at me. At first, I stared because I knew he wasn't looking at me and wouldn't look at me and I was safe to stare. Then I stared _because_ he wouldn't look at me. I even let out a string of unnecessary profanities, but he didn't so much as blink. Just looked vaguely in my general direction.

He was odd. He moved as quickly as a normal person, I was sure, but his movements were so linear and flowed so evenly, he seemed to be moving in slow motion, like the roll of a gorgeous, curly-haired wave. He also spoke weirdly. He never used contractions, pronounced each word fully and with a sort of odd reverence, like the way a poet might speak of his work.

I didn't like it.

Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper were having some sort of political conversation about the treatment of World War Two veterans in France and I had just managed to tug the front of my t-shirt down to reveal some cleavage before Tanya sidled up next to me and began talking incessantly about her house.

"Trellises, lots of trellises," she said, sighing in a contented sort of way. "It's beautiful, you should just see it. Ivy all over the place. It's ridiculous."

"I'd love to," I said absently, now playing delicately with my collarbone the way that a women's magazine once suggested. Nothing; Jasper wasn't so much as glancing at me. "So, Jasper," I blurted and my voice sounded angry. "Please, tell me a little about yourself."

Rosalie sighed, a deep, throaty, tired sigh. Jasper, who was staring at Emmett, paused for before slowly bringing his eyes to me.

"What would you like to know?" he asked in a smooth, velvety tone. Not a single muscle in his face resembled anything but bored indifference.

I frowned. "I don't know, surprise me." When he didn't say anything, only looked at me with a concentrated, blank expression on his face, I sighed. "What's your middle name?"

He cocked his head slowly to the side, one of his eyebrows raised. But still he said nothing. I scowled at him.

"All right," I said. "Let's try another one. Where were you born?"

"Texas," he said, simply and without effort.

"When did you come here?"

"At the age of twelve," he said and then he smiled delicately. "If you will excuse me, Bella, I was speaking with Emmett."

And then he looked away. I opened my mouth to ask him why he was such a fucking ass, but Rosalie gripped my forearm and dragged me, bodily, out of the kitchen.

"What is your problem, Bella?" she hissed when we reached the living room, throwing me onto the couch. I winced as the buttons on the back of my jeans squeaked against the dark leather. Her eyes were doing that buggy thing they do whenever she was pissed "Why can't you keep your mouth shut?"

"He's being an asshole," I snapped back, crossing my arms against my chest. "Why do you like him so much?"

"Because he's important and a good friend of ours and you need to respect that."

I opened my mouth to give her one hell of a scathing retort, but shut it when her expression changed. Her tight lips loosened a bit and she pressed them together in a gesture that resembled a fine mix between a pout and a frown. I looked away.

"Fine," I mumbled, picking myself up from the couch. "I'll go smoke instead."

She let me leave and I slammed the front door behind me in a very petulant way.

Twenty minutes later and people began to arrive for the party. There was an odd streamline quality about the rows of silver and black cars lining the edges of the street. The lack of automatic porch lights allowed me some false sense of privacy on the cement steps, and so I sat there, chain smoking and fretting about the devastations of my life, watching people park, leave their cars, and walk up the driveway. Emmett had a metal unattached garage on the side of his house where he hosted his parties and I found it inexplicably amusing to watch the guests climb their way from the streets and past the far wall of the walkway, before disappearing behind it. I was three cigarettes in and cursing my phone for not having a decent game selection when Tanya finally found me.

"Hey, you," she said and I didn't dare look at her. Between a nicotine overload and a half hour of Jasper pointedly ignoring me, I wasn't completely sure I wouldn't unleash some unwarranted, biting remark about her masterfully stupid choice of headdress.

"Hey," I said, blowing a tight ring of smoke up at her. "What's up?"

"Edward?" she asked.

I pointed at my chest. "Bella."

"Edward, what are you doing here?"

I lowered my head and followed her line of sight to see a lean, staggeringly attractive man making his way up the walkway towards us. His walk was brisk and jittery and though it was cold enough outside that even through my jeans and jacket I had a decent shiver going on, his shaky steps were clearly ones of anger.

"Why isn't he answering his phone?" he growled, approaching the porch. "I've called a dozen times in the past few hours. I need that goddamn graph for - "

"Edward," Tanya said.

" – work _at seven in the morning_ and I haven't even looked it over! Look, I get that you guys are at one of Emmett's little parties tonight, which is why I'm here, but – "

"Edward."

" – I can't just walk into the meeting tomorrow with a fucking graph I haven't even looked over! I mean, seriously, can you go get him so – "

"_Edward!_"

"What?" he snapped, closing his mouth with an audible crack. "What, Tanya?"

"This," she said, gesturing rather violently at me, "is Bella."

He clearly hadn't noticed me before now, because even in the darkness that sucked out color and turned everything into a pallor of grays and whites, his ears definitely turned pink. I rubbed my legs together in response.

_Oh, my._

"You'll have to excuse Edward," Tanya said, "he's usually a sweetheart, but under the right circumstances, he can sometimes be a real ass."

Edward's body seemed to sag in response. His fists, which had been balled and tucked tightly into the pocket of his pants, loosened and he took them out and spread his arms before him. "Tanya, I'm sorry. I just need – "

"Yes, yes," she said, waving a dismissive hand at him. "You need to talk to Sir, hold on." She opened the front door and stepped inside, but turned back to him. "Play nice," she said, smiling and walked inside, closing the door behind her.

"That was quite an entrance," I said, nodding appreciatively at him. I groped blindly on the dark porch until I fingered my pack of cigarettes. I slapped the pack against the side of my thigh until one popped out. I resumed searching the ground for a lighter when an unwelcomed bright light seemed to explode in my face.

"Gah," I said, the cigarette falling from my fingers. "You should probably warn someone before you do that."

He withdrew the lighter. "Oh, sorry. Um, would you like a lighter?"

"I would love one."

I found my dropped cigarette and he lit it for me before producing his own pack from inside his jacket.

"Mind if I sit?"

"You're not going inside?"

He shook his head and I gestured to a spot next to me and he sat, gracefully stretching his long legs out from beneath him. His height allowed for his legs to bypass each of the porch steps and so he sat, crossing his ankles and leaning back sloppily on one of his hands.

"So," I said, mentally shooting multiple pleads at my vag to behave herself. "You're a friend of Jasper's?"

He cleared his throat and looked over at me. If Jasper was gorgeous, then this man was the crown and sash of the testosterone world. His he had a relatively large forehead, only made taller by his unruly mess of reddish hair, which sat surprisingly high on his head. It stuck out infinitely disarrayed angles, giving one the impression that it was purposefully disheveled. His face was a mess of angles and sharp corners, but they followed so evenly and fit so correctly together, that they ultimately softened the planes of his face. He had a straight, linear nose, much like Jasper's, but his mouth was smiling in a crooked, lopsided way that sent my legs jellying.

"Are you his brother?" I asked, before he could respond to my first question.

He frowned. "Yes," he said, "well, I guess you could say he's _my_ adoptive brother."

"So you're not a Whitlock, then?"

"Jasper's not a Cullen."

I raised both of my eyebrows at him in a look that clearly conveyed that I _totally_ picked up on what he said, but he was now looking away from me, drawing in on a lazy puff of his cigarette.

"Sorry," he said after a moment, "that was an awkwardly intimate bit of information I gave you there. I'm annoyed with him at the moment." He slumped forward and stuck his hand out to me. "Edward."

"Bella," I said, shaking it. "You should teach your brother about the proper etiquette of greeting someone."

"He didn't shake your hand," he said, and I could see, by the way he pressed his eyebrows together, that he meant for the statement to be a question. But his voice dropped on the last word and it became a statement instead.

"Ah," I said. "A repeat offender. Is he a germ-a-phobe or something?"

"Something," he said. "And he is currently holding a graph he made for me hostage in his house." He turned to give the front door a pointed look.

I took a deep drag of my cigarette, squinting my eyes at him.

He pulled the edge of his mouth upward when he noticed me looking at him in a way that made me want to spread my legs.

"Yes, Bella?"

"So Jasper really is a douche, it's not just a show?"

He turned his head to me, a look of pure incredulity on his face.

Feeling like I had crossed some sort of invisible line, I amended, "I mean, he seems to treat Tanya with respect."

"He does," he said, taking another long, lazy drag from his cigarette.

I blushed furiously and shifted my feet on the ground. _Holy mother of God, _I thought to myself, trying to stifle the bubble of panic in my stomach, _can you not keep your geedee mouth shut for two fucking seconds? Enough time to not make a complete and utter ass of yourself?_

_In one, two. Out one, two._

"Um, you all right there?"

"Just chastising myself for being helplessly inappropriate," I said, attempting to shrug in a nonchalant way. I rubbed my face in an effort to calm it down.

The front door opened and Edward and I both turned to it as Jasper emerged. I stood up immediately, but when Edward didn't move, I sat back down and then blushed angrily. Jasper was leaning stiffly on the frame of the door, one foot planted on the ground, the other crossed at the ankle so the weirdly pointed toe of his boot rested on the marble slab in front of the wooden floor of the foyer.

"Where's my graph, my dear brother?" Edward asked.

Jasper blinked once, but then he smiled and the gesture sent a flurry of goose bumps up and across my arms. The light coming from the inside of the house that spilling onto the darkened porch muted Jasper's body and turned it into a silhouette. Aside from the white of his teeth and the soft halo of light that the slight frizz of his hair caused above his head, he was completely shrouded in shadow.

"The graph is at the manor," he said and I scoffed, much louder than I had intended, which caused both men to look at me.

I pressed my chin against the thin fabric of my knees. "I'm sure it's a beautiful manor," I mumbled.

"Here," Jasper said. He delicately tossed a set of keys to Edward, who caught them. "Tanya and I will be staying here well into the evening. Please bring them back when you are finished. The graph is in the office in the north wing."

"Thanks," Edward said and we both watched as Jasper bowed to Edward, turned slowly on his heel, and reentered Emmett's house, closing the door softly behind him.

"Care to take a drive?" Edward said, dangling the keys near my face. I swatted them away.

"Yeah, I don't really know you," I said. "You could be a . . . serial killer or something. You know, take me away in your shiny car, tell me I'm beautiful, and then lock me inside your creepy house in a stone pit with a bottle of lotion asking me to – "

Edward chuckled lowly and from our delicious proximity, I could almost feel his chest rumble. "All right, all right." He rose from the porch and wiped the back of his ass of with his hand. "It was good meeting you, Bella."

I nodded at him and watched as he made his way back down the walkway. I collected my purse from the porch and scampered to my car. I threw my bag into the passenger seat and hopped into the driver's, sticking the key into the ignition and smiling slightly as the monstrous truck roared to life. I pulled out of the driveway as my phone trilled loudly, signaling a text message. I flicked it open.

_Is that you I hear leaving?_

The text was from Emmett.

_Yeah, sorry. Not really feeling the party tonight. I had a good time tough, thanks for the invite._

He replied a moment later.

_She would not shut up about how much you loved her hat. You're a good friend, though I'm a little worried about your Christmas present._

I sighed and wiggled my finger over the keyboard of my phone.

_Not a problem, don't plan on seeing her again._

_Oh? Why not._

_Well, Jasper is an ass and Tanya's just too . . . I don't know. _

_For fuck's sake. You know you want this, Bella. I thought this was the whole point. To meet people. There are a lot of friendly and good Doms here, quite a few who aren't with anyone. You sure you want to bow out like this?_

I could almost hear the derision in his words and I shifted in my seat, a little uncomfortable. I had been reckless with Emmett and Rosalie's gift; finally getting the balls to attend one of their parties only to leave after a couple of hours. I had come, in some odd way, to rediscover the part of me that had been so indelicately ripped from me after James, and had left just as confused and frustrated (though a bit more sexually excited) as I had come. Perhaps this isn't what I wanted at all.

But then I thought of Jasper. Well, not quite _Jasper_, but the way that Jasper and Tanya interacted. The sweetness, the almost palpable love and affection, and I gritted my teeth together.

_That's_ what I wanted. Wanted it so badly that I could almost feel a ghostly pressure on my chest knowing I didn't have it. A pressure of want, need, desperation, and longing, all wrapped up in the pleasant realization that I was going to have to work my ass of to get it. Attending the party was a decent, though failed, first step.

I hesitated for a moment before blindly punching in the keys.

_Does she have my phone number?_

A moment later, my phone trilled again.

_I already gave it to her!_

_Fuck you._

I felt like an outsider. Again. After my decade-plus long friendship with Emmett and seeing his constant interaction with Rosalie, James's appearance in my life had given me what I had been witnessing between the two of them: unyielding love and a sense of purpose. But even as a sub, I was difficult. I was crass, too witty, and generally too tactless to ever be properly considered as a "good" sub. Jasper's reaction had cemented it and now I was at an even greater loss in my purpose than I had been after arriving.

I drove to the only gas station in the area that sold my cheap-ass menthols and paid for the five-dollar pack with two single bills and three in loose change. On my way out the door, I swiped a bottle of Dewar's from a display case near the exit.


	4. Day 2, Part 1: The Most Awkward of Meals

**Day 2: Part 1**

**The Most Awkward of Meals**

My phone rang the next day, scaring the absolute shit out of me. I was deeply burrowed under my comforter and just about everything other suitable blanket-like item I could find last night. All of it was thrown over my freezing ass in a sacred but quite messy pile. I flexed my toes experimentally and quickly wished I hadn't. They were stiff and numb and though I could faintly hear them scratching against my comforter, I could only distinguish by logic which part of my body was moving.

"Ugh," I mumbled, fumbling through the blankets until I was able to reach my hand to my face. I scrubbed my forehead furiously for a moment, waiting for my phone to stop ringing so I could shift my position and fall back asleep. Jake groaned next to me.

"Then you get it," I said. "Mommy has a hangover."

I had finished half of that damn bottle of Dewar's the previous night and had slept quite fretfully, the spins refusing to subside until the distinct chirping of birds beyond the small window of my bedroom alerted to me it was morning. I opened my eyes slowly, darting them around the darkness underneath my bedding. I had too many items thrown over me to determine whether I had slept for an hour or half the day. It was all too dark.

I closed my eyes and had almost drifted to sleep, when my phone rang again. It didn't make me start this time, but I felt a tightness in my chest that suggested I was really agitated. Jake groaned again and then barked. I searched through the blanket for a second, knowing he was under there somewhere. My hand touched fur and I scooped him from where he was and brought him to my chest. He sighed and promptly fell back asleep, breathing into my face.

My phone rang for the third time and Jake growled next to me, clearly disturbed by the noise.

"Oh, shut it," I said. "You are a staggering total of four pounds. Let's not pretend." I hesitated for only a moment before unwrapping an arm from the layers of cloth around me and extending it cautiously outside the bedding, hissing as my arm was met with frigid air. I fumbled for a moment, searching blindly for my phone on my nightstand, before grasping it and pulling it until the sheets with me.

"Hello?" I asked into it, my voice still thick with sleep.

"Bella?"

"Speaking."

"It's Tanya. Did I wake you up?"

I stifled a groan. "You did. What can I do for you this morning?"

"Sorry to wake you," she said. "It's, well, it's two in the afternoon."

I brought the phone away from my face and looked at the LCD screen: 2:33 pm.

"What can I do for you this afternoon, then?" I asked.

Through the phone, I could hear the muted echo of an engine purring to life. "Well," she said. "I'm having a dinner party tonight and am out shopping for food and stuff. I thought maybe you'd like to join us."

"Us?"

"Are you in a tunnel or something?" she asked. "It sounds all muffled."

"I'm under about twenty pounds of bedding," I said. "And I'm not ready to come out of it yet. Sorry."

She laughed softly and the sound was like a tinkling of bells. "Oh, it's okay. I have those days sometimes, too."

"Good to know," I said. "Who is 'us'?"

"Well me, of course, Sir, and Edward."

Immediately, flashes of last night jammed themselves forcefully through my grogginess and into the forefront of my brain: Jasper's indifferent stare; Emmett and Rosalie's disgruntled looks; the color and shape of Edward's lips as he grinned. A hot ball of something akin to shame burned in my stomach, rolling and stretching itself before finding purchase in my throat. I swallowed hard.

"Um, Tanya – "

My phone dinged softly in my ear and I put Tanya on speakerphone before pulling it away from my face to look at the screen. A text message from Emmett.

_You'll have sooooo much fun! Girl time or some shit like that!_

"Did Emmett put you up to this?" I rumbled heatedly into the phone.

"No?" she said quietly.

"Liar," I said, rolling onto my back and spreading my legs out in a large fork. "So Jasper's going to be there?" I hated the meek edge to my voice as I pronounced his name, as though I was speaking fearfully of Satan while he was seated in the room. Or some shit. "Because I'm not sure he's at the top of my favorites list."

She clucked her tongue. "Don't you worry about a thing about Sir. Emmett had a long talk with him last night about how he treated you."

I scrubbed my forehead again. "Great, I was hoping it wouldn't be awkward."

"Dinner is at six o'clock. We'd love to have you. Don't worry about bringing anything."

"I don't know, Tanya –"

She cut me off. "Emmett said that if you said that, I was supposed to remind you that you wanted this. And that you should wear the dark jeans with the purple sweater, your "unnecessarily and ridiculously large black belt thingy", and your "hooker boots"," she said, imitating Emmett's deep, crackly voice with surprising accuracy.

I couldn't help myself but laugh. "Spot on, Tanya."

"Thanks," she said. "So we'll see you at six?"

I tried to imagine how dinner might proceed. With Jasper's refined elegance and Tanya's staggering beauty, I thought of an endlessly long dinner table worthy of King Henry VIII, with Jasper at one end and Tanya at the other. A single, silver candelabrum placed delicately in the middle of the table in front of me as the only ornament and about seventeen forks piled cruelly on either side of my plate, their little prongs wiggling with silent laughter at my ignorance.

"Bella?"

I buried my head into my pillow. "Sure."

"Excellent!" she said and I sighed deeply over the phone in response.

I showered slowly, letting the warmth of the water relax the cold, stiff muscles in my body. I had no electricity but water was included in the rent, so it never ran out I had no gas either, so I had originally found the warm water puzzling, but had chalked it up to a happy coincidence I need not understand. My instincts suggested Emmett, but I didn't quite have the courage to ask and he never let anything slide, so I let it go. I changed into my clothing in the bathroom where the steam made the small space ideal for doing activities that would have been physiologically inappropriate anywhere else in the apartment. But I left to apply my makeup, instead standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

Thanks to an early death, my father had left me with quite a bit of money. But between James's taste for all things expensive and my inability to say no to him, I had blown through it in less than a year.

In my living room, my TV, the last piece of my father's wealth and which was once a magnificent piece of technology, was currently turned on its side and pushed to the far end of the oak entertainment cabinet to make space for other things. As of now, three dirty plates and a handful of crusty napkins lie there. After two week of not clearing the dishes, I was disgusted by the possibility that mold had accumulated on the glass surfaces, so I never cleaned it up. It had been four months since then and I found no reason to pretend to care about my apartment now, after all this time of despising it. I had long thought this place was a mediator between where I had come from and where I was to go. And I was just biding my time before I reached that intangible destination.

I took the batteries out of the television's remote control and put Jake into the bathroom, popping the batteries into a space heater I only used in such emergencies.

I put on my "hooker boots," formerly my "walking death trap" boots, and left my apartment, turning around after I shut the door to lock it. Taped to the front was a light pink piece of paper. I didn't have to read the contents to know it was an eviction notice; every other month or so I'd receive one. I didn't have a job now. I'd been fired from a low-scale boutique on the outskirts of a two street town down the road for "inappropriate behavior not suitable for an employee."

I brought my hand up to rip the notice from my door before, shrugging, I turned and went down the stairs to my parked car.

Jasper's house looked everything I thought it would. It was designed with dark brick and darker wood trimmings in a Gothic-type architecture that reminded me simultaneously of Rome's skyline and the evil lair of a brooding mad scientist. I was even less surprised by the furniture inside; it was classically elegant with dark wood and wrought iron, and a plethora of overstuffed chaise lounges. It bore a striking resemblance to the cool demeanor of the man who sat in front of me.

"It is the public's interest that matters most," Jasper was saying to Edward. "The people. I disagree with the sentiment, of course, and would rather see an egoist's perspective from the public. Though I doubt it will ever come to fruition."

I had no idea what they were talking about and, judging from the vapid look on Tanya's face, she didn't either.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Edward said, who hadn't so much as waved at me when I walked in. "If every man did what was best for himself and took no consideration for anyone else, how the hell would we ever see some of the greatest artistic collaborations?"

Jasper laughed and the sound made me wince. "Such as?"

"Architecture, painting, the building of entire cities, everything!"

Jasper waved his hand in a condescend, dismissive gesture. "Hardly, Edward. Man does not build for other men, he builds for the sake of his own pleasure. Man does not create artwork for the purpose of the pleasing other men, he does it for himself. The hopes of pleasing the masses is only a means to satisfy an end. He will receive compensation for his work which allows him to create more. It is that simple."

"What about gifts?" Edward asked, his voice rising. "Drawing pictures for other people? Building houses for the sole purpose of receiving nothing but the joy of someone else?"

"Gifts are more selfish than most other things. It is always about how pleased the giver is with his choice than the receiver is with getting the right thing."

Edward scoffed. "Aside from the Trojan horse, I like to think gift giving is generally considered a good thing."

I was staring at Jasper with blatant disbelief. Tanya had answered the door when I arrived and warned me that the two men were in a heated philosophical debate that would end in a matter of minutes because, apparently, they had been at it for the better part of an hour. That had been said almost twenty minutes ago and so I sat, dumbfounded, and waited for them to finish.

I had spent the first few minutes with a polite look of interest on my face, but when neither man glanced in my direction, I took to staring around the room instead. We were seated at the dinning room table and I was relieved to see that it didn't look like anything I'd thought it would. Dark wood but relatively small, seating six people comfortably. Judging by the line down the center of the table and two identical chairs placed next to each other on the other side of the room, the center sleeve had been removed and the two ends of the table had been pushed together to form a circular four-seated table instead.

"Egotism," Jasper said.

"Egotism?" Edward laughed. "It's not about egotism, it's about _egoism_."

"That is not the case. It is about egotism, masochism, lies of omission, and undiluted pleasure-seeking. It is what separates men from beasts."

"And here I thought it was our opposable thumbs," I said, startling the hell out of myself.

Both men stopped and stared at me. I commenced to blush red and stare down at the tablecloth.

A buzzer sounded somewhere off of the dining room and Tanya jumped up immediately and scampered away, leaving me seated between the two men. Her leave seemed to break them of their stares. Jasper picked up a newspaper that was lying in front of him and opened it. His relaxed but controlled movements suggested that he did not, by any means, wish to be disturbed. Edward to me turned and smiled.

"Don't mind him," he said, cocking his head towards Jasper. "He hates when he loses."

Jasper huffed.

"Yeah, that was pretty interesting," I said. "I didn't know people still held actual debates over dinner anymore. I thought that was a long-dead tradition of the rich and powerful."

Jasper made a sweeping gesture around the room. "This house, by definition, _is_ richness and power."

Taking this response as an open invitation, I turned to him. "It's nice to see you again, Jasper."

Jasper bowed his head slightly, acknowledging my greeting, but kept his eyes on the paper. I frowned.

"Dinner is ready," Tanya called from the kitchen. I heard the clinking of plates and she came back into the dining room, holding two ends of a tray that held what looked like an entire pig.

I stood up, readying myself to help her carry food out, but felt Edward's hand grip my arm.

"What?" I asked, looking down at him.

He wasn't looking at me, but at Jasper. Jasper was still holding the paper loosely in between his fingertips, but instead of blatant disregard for my presence, he was looking straight at me.

"Please allow Tanya to serve us. It is her job," he said slowly, and with the careful articulation of one speaking to an insolent child. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Right," I said, sitting down. "Sorry."

I put my elbows on the table and burrowed my head into my palms.

Tanya brought the rest of the food out and opened a bottle of Riesling, which I accepted graciously. I took an inappropriately long swallow of it the second it was within reach.

"So, Bella, I never asked, what do you do?" Edward said after a few minutes, smiling at me in a crooked way that caused the latent Darwinian girl inside of me to cry out, _"He would make such beautiful babies! Mount him, now!" _

So my ovaries did work. All this time, I thought they were just for show.

"Nothing right now," I said. "I did work as an assistant manager at a boutique outside of town, but not anymore."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I got fired for telling another employee that the manager looked like something I would draw with my left hand. But no worries, they hired someone else right after me . . . Angie or Angela or something. So no harm done." I lifted my glass in a mock toast.

Edward's eyebrows rose dramatically up his forehead and his mouth stretched back into a taut smirk. He nodded appreciatively.

"Bella," Tanya said suddenly, "Edward's a doctor, you know. He works at the general downtown."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm a doctor," Edward said, smiling good-naturedly at Tanya. "And you're Bella."

"Yes," I said, frowning.

"The one and only," Edward said in a teasing voice, looking at Tanya.

Tanya huffed. "Edward!"

He laughed lowly and I had to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head at the sound. "You'll have to excuse me, Bella. Tanya's been talking about you all day. She's quite excited to have you here. Said you're a fan of the hat and all."

"Edward, _shut up_," Tanya hissed angrily. I glanced at Jasper, who had folded his newspaper over so he could read it with one hand while eat with his other. He wasn't looking at any of us.

"The one and only Bella," Edward continued to goad in a smooth, singsong voice. "The Bella. La Bella."

Tanya huffed and put her fork down to cross her arms in front of her chest. "Bella, you'll have to excuse Edward _again_, he can't seem to keep his ass-ness to himself." She said it with anger, but after a moment she smiled.

"Whatever, Tanya," Edward said, pointing his fork at her. "You love it."

An impressive, high tech-looking phone sitting next to Jasper's plate vibrated suddenly and I jumped as the vibration reached my plate. Without even a polite "excuse me" Jasper beckoned at Tanya and they both stood and left the dining room. I stared as they left, relishing the way Jasper's inherent elegance made even walking a spectator sport.

"Where are they going?"

Edward sighed and put his fork down on his plate. "Alongside being his sub, Tanya is also his personal secretary of sorts. When he has a business call, she types out what they talk about. She'd do spectacularly as one of those people that type out court transcripts."

When I didn't say anything, he continued, "All right, out with it."

I turned to him. "Out with what?"

"I can see it in your face. You're curious about something." He waved his hand and me while sinking back into his chair. "Out with it."

Without preamble, I said, "My friend Rosalie is obsessed with him. I can't figure it out."

Edward stuck his bottom lip out and pondered my request for a moment. "Last night, you said that he treats Tanya with respect." I nodded. "He does, just as he did with his last sub, Alice. And with Jane before that. And with Leah." He flicked the names off with small twists of his hand.

"Rosalie wants to be his sub?"

Edward shook his head. "No one _really_ wants to be Jasper's sub. He goes through them very quickly and the girls know just as much as he does that they'll soon be gone. Rosalie probably just wants the recognition that comes with being one of Jasper's wanted subs."

I frowned. "Is he a legend in the culture or something?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "I've never heard of a Dom with so many subs."

"Yeah," Edward said, sighing again. "He turns down dozens of applications a year. He finally picked Tanya for a reason I don't know."

"Her charming personality? Or her fabulous taste in headdress?"

He looked up at me from behind the few loose strands of hair hanging in front of his eyes and grinned broadly. "I was a bit shocked you liked that hat of hers. If I hadn't already met you, I'd probably be afraid to."

I grinned back and shrugged. I wanted to press him further, to dig up whatever information I could on Jasper, if only to squelch the weird nagging in my stomach. Instead, taking his smile as a sign of forgiveness, I said, "So, did Edward Cullen manage to wow the hospital with his graph this morning?"

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully, sinking further back into his chair. He cocked his head a bit again in a gesture that sent my feminine region all aflutter. "Can I ask you something really personal instead?"

"I suppose so."

"Do you have panic attacks?"

"What?"

"Panic attacks," he repeated. "I don't mean to get too personal, but we both went past personal a while ago, so I thought I'd go for it.

"Where did you hear that?" I asked and my upper lip began to sweat a little.

"Tanya," he said. "She was talking to Rosalie earlier today and Rosalie was warning her that you might vomit and pass out from a panic attack at being somewhere new like this."

"So, do you get most of your information from eavesdropping?"

He laughed, the sound was smooth and quiet. His arms were behind his head, their fingers intertwined. The position allowed his arms to bulge and indent at the appropriate places and I had to swallow an indecent amount of saliva.

"There is no eavesdropping with Tanya," he said. "If you're within five feet of the house, her conversations are also yours."

I decided then that by the end of the week, all the scotch in the wet bar at Rosalie's house would be mine. "I don't know if I'd call them panic attacks really, though they're unbelievably annoying." I shifted a little in my seat, feeling kind of uncomfortable. I hadn't really planned on saying anything else, but by his concerned expression, I felt the words tumble out of my mouth. "It happens a few times a day. Something happens, I feel super nauseous, I do this stupid little mantra thing in my head, and voila, it goes away. Like magic."

He frowned deeply. "So, you're not on any medication or anything? Therapy?"

"Um, no. Is this the Good Doctor in you coming out to play?"

He parted his lips as though he was about to say something particularly devastating, but instead picked up his fork again and began eating. I felt a dark flush begin on my chest and slowly progress up my neck, across my cheeks, and recede into my hairline.

I looked at the ornamental clock hung imperiously on the far end of the dinning room and groaned aloud.


	5. Day 2, Part 2: Bath Time With Edward

**Day 2: Part 2**

**Bath Time with Edward**

The air was awkward and heavy between Edward and me when Tanya finally bumbled into the dinning room again. She paused, her eyebrows low and furrowed together as she watched the two of us pointedly ignoring each other.

_Oh my god, these people are crazy. I had to leave._

"You're not hungry?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips in a surprisingly Rosalie-like like.

"Well," I said, looking at the pig on the table. "Believe it or not, but I can't actually consume an entire day's worth of food in one sitting."

She shrugged and rejoined us at the table, putting the napkin she had thrown over her plate of food back onto her lap. She reached down, I assumed, to grab the fork where it lie on the table, but seemed to have forgotten the gesture halfway and instead looked up at me.

"Something you'd wish to say, Tanya?" I asked after a few moments, and I thought her behavior was amusing, but when I looked over at Edward, he was frowning.

"N-No," she said, "not yet."

"All right," I said, picking up my fork again, but put it back down when a burst of nausea rolled through my stomach. I closed my eyes. _In one, two. Out one, two._

_Okay, _I thought to myself, _Tanya is probably harmless, so there's no reason to feel panicky. Relax, goddammit._

And then it hit me completely and without warning. The food that hadn't even been appetizing to begin with seemed nauseating now and my stomach rolled violently in a way that suggested impending vomit. A door somewhere in the house opened and then shut with a defining clink, and Jasper's seductive voice floated quickly through the house and into the adjoining room where we were all seated.

"Yes, thank you. And please, send my regards to Chelsea for her contribution to the project. If it had not been for her, we would have surely fallen apart. I'm afraid I never received her contact information."

Edward and Tanya had picked up some random bit of conversation during my attempt to swallow the vomit that was threatening to embarrass me. But when the door clicked shut, signaling Jasper's arrival, I wasn't the only one who seemed unable to talk. I turned a little and saw that Tanya was almost vibrating in her seat, her lips twitching as she struggled to remain stoic.

I grimaced at the sight. Mostly out of annoyance for a twenty-something to be acting like a full-fledged child, but then something weird happened. A small, tight knot, akin to nausea but a little higher up on my torso, pulled at me. It felt like an honest-to-god pressure had been placed on my chest and I fought the urge to collapse upon myself from its weight.

Oh, fuck me. _Jealousy? Really, Bella. Out of all the things. . . . _ But it was true; it had to be. What was all that noise Rosalie was going on about last night? Something about loneliness and sexual frustration. I glanced at Edward and was more unsurprised than I probably should have been when I saw the defining clack of his jaw as he grinded and loosened his teeth. A flash of hot warmth spread from my chest downwards.

_God, that's sexy._

"Bella."

And as quickly as the warmth had begun, it was almost immediately sucked out. I stared, slightly opened-mouth, as a series of goose bumps ran in a weirdly embarrassing delicate path across my forearm. I uncrossed them.

"Jasper," I said, trying to mimic his flat tone. I turned around and my mouth snapped shut.

I hadn't recognized what he was wearing before. He had on a dark button-up, sort of similar to the one he had worn last night, but it was clearly a more business-before-pleasure kind of shirt. It hung loosely from his pants, the bottoms creased slightly as though he'd had it tucked in all day and only just recently un-tucked it. I frowned, because it really didn't fit him.

And then I looked at his face. And he looked _pissed_. His eyes were gray and narrowed so much I could barely tell eye from eyelid. His hands were tucked into his pockets, but through the thin fabric of his dress pants, I could see his fists were balled up tightly.

I liked indifferent Jasper better.

"Look," I hedged, waving my arm vaguely in the direction I hoped was the front door. "About yesterday, I really am sorry. I haven't had a chance to apologize, but you caught me off guard and I wasn't – "

Jasper blinked once, very slowly, and by the time his eyes had opened again I was done talking. My mouth closed slowly and without any seeming purpose. He no longer seemed angry, only slightly annoyed, as though listening to a young child discuss the wonders of pop versus juice. But, inexplicably, I found myself unable to continue speaking.

_Oh my god, _I thought, _he's a sorcerer._

Jasper blinked at me and I blinked back.

"Bella, what were your plans for the evening?"

The question caught me a little off-guard. I must have been staring at him too long, though, because a moment later he raised one of his eyebrows at me in a way that clearly said "Anytime now."

My stomach rolled. _In one, two. Out one, two. In one, two. Out one, two._

"Nothing," I croaked.

He nodded once, abruptly, and un-tucked his hands from his pockets to cross his arms over his chest. "I spoke to Emmett about your . . . situation and have discussed the matter with Edward and we agree that it would be in your best interest to stay the evening in my home."

I turned around in my seat, completely ignoring the squeaking sound my pants made against the leather. Edward, though with determination in his eyes, had the grace to give me a sheepish, apologetic smile. He bowed his head a little so his hand could pull gently at the strands of hair that were smeared across his face. "Why, if I may ask, do _you_ have any say in this? Kind of presumptuous, don't you think?"

His mouth remained parted and I watched in horror as the tip of his tongue swiped the corner of his lips. He was fucking nervous. _He should be fucking nervous_.

I glowered at him sharply before turning back to Jasper. "I'm fine, really – "

Edward cleared his throat. "You could freeze to death in that apartment."

I clicked my tongue, annoyed, and Edward made an indignant noise behind me but shut his mouth.

"Sir, can I draw her a bath?" Tanya said suddenly. I looked over at her and she was grinning broadly at me, just as clearly excited about this development as she was impervious to the apparent subtleties of Jasper.

"A bath?" As delectable as being in this overwrought dungeon of a house was, I was almost positive I didn't want to be trapped naked in a bathroom with creeptastic Jasper running around. "Look, unless I didn't something particularly stupid in the last few minutes that I'm unaware of, I _did_ take a shower this morning."

"Thank you, Tanya," Jasper said in a slow, drawn-out voice. "Bella, I would much prefer you not argue so excitedly against people who have your most best interests in mind." A small smirk tugged at the outer corner of his lip and almost immediately another flash of goose bumps ran down my arms. "And, if I am not mistaken, you are currently without electricity, yes? In fact, I believe you are completely without a home."

I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Not in a "oh my god I'll never get out of here alive" sort of way, but in a "I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like whatever happens next" sort of way. My stomach churned in agreement.

"I appreciate you checking in with Emmett and everything," I said in a nonchalant voice, though I was pretty sure Jasper could detect the sarcasm, "but I've been surviving for a while, and I'm just as dandy now, so if you'll excuse me . . ."

I went to make a motion to stand up, but legs wouldn't comply and I swayed a bit precariously with only one foot on the ground. Edward's hands were warm and large and he gently tugged on my waist in a silent plea to get me to sit the fuck down. I plopped back down in my chair and crossed my arms petulantly over my body, bravely ignoring both Edward's and Jasper's gaze. My stomach rolled on itself. "Fine."

Twenty minutes later and I was standing in some sort of massive, sprawling bathroom with Tanya and Edward, who insisted on helping me up the steps, and staring at a small box of purple things Tanya was shaking in her hand.

"Lavender," she said, as though the scent itself was intrinsic to the round objects sliding around through the clear plastic. I tried to read the description on the front of the box, lest I make a fool of myself, but Tanya was shaking it too fast for me to discern any text.

"Awesome," I said. "But lavender what?"

Edward coughed and rounded me so he was standing next to Tanya. He tried to mouth what they were to me, but Tanya swung around unexpectedly and hit him in the chest with the box.

"There's a huge _mirror_ in here, Edward," she said, pressing the box against the middle of his chest. He gripped it as she pulled away to bend under the sink and grab a large, fluffy towel from a dark wicker basket.

Keeping a keen eye on Tanya, Edward slid up next to me and though I was still mad at him, I allowed him to pass me the box. _Bath beads. _"What the hell are bath beads?" I asked.

Tanya, who was now trying to refold the towel into a perfect square clicked her tongue.

"Oh, La Bella," Edward whispered. "You're in for it now."

She waved a hand at him without looking at him and flashed me an exasperated sigh. "Bath beads, Bella?"

Well, fuck. Bath beads were hardly on the priority list back in my little Podunk town of birth. In fact, at almost twenty-two years old, Rosalie had to show me how to properly apply mascara after I came over one time looking like a raccoon who had been crying for a while. My mother used to put sanitary pads in her shoulders back in the 1980s, for god's sake, because she couldn't afford the fancy shirts with the pads already in.

Tanya went over to the tub and turned on the faucet, perching herself on the lip to stick her finger under the water. Suddenly, I was very aware of Edward's presence next to me. Tanya was in the process of pouring some sort of liquid into the place where the water met the tub and I couldn't discern Edward's delicious scent from the heady flower smell that was hanging heavily in the air.

I wanted to cough.

"Do you have any freesia?" Edward asked and I sighed deeply.

"I don't like freesia," I said.

"You're just being difficult."

Tanya shook her head. "Those are the only ones we have left." She took the box that Edward was still holding and poured the whole mess into the tub. I watched as the pellets floated for a minute before sinking under the bubbles.

"So," Edward cleared his throat. I felt him move next to me, but kept my eyes trained on Tanya. She pulled the bottle of whatever she had poured into the tub to her nose and took a long whiff of whatever was inside. She made an orgasm face. "I saw that you didn't eat much. Want me to bring you some food?"

"In the tub, Don Juan?" I said, my voice dropping, inexplicably, an octave or so lower. I didn't know what his goddamn, flipping, back-and-forth, problem was, but I was still annoyed with him and I was going to make him work for my forgiveness.

Tanya recapped the bottle and stood, giving Edward a piercing stare. He smiled obnoxiously at her, placing a hand on his chest, swearing his oath to play nice. "I'll behave."

"Yeah, actually," I said, keeping a wary eye on Tanya. "I'm kind of hungry. Something with an insane bread to cheese ratio would be great."

They left me to change and I stripped down immediately, relishing how nice it was to be naked indoors without feeling like my toes were about to freeze off. I stepped into the tub – the perfect temperature – and settled myself among the bubbles.

I was through my third rendition of "Silent Night", trying to see how long I could hold my breath, when I noticed movement from somewhere above the water. I poked my head out and glared at Edward, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the tub, eating something with a pair of chopsticks. He looked quite startled, the utensils a few inches from his mouth, as though I'd caught him doing something particularly unseemly.

"Really?" I said. "You swore." He waved his chopsticks at me. A little bit of the food dropped into the tub. I looked at the green blob as it slowly dissipated in the water. "I hope that's kosher," I said.

"Sushi," he said, gesturing at the tub.

"Ew."

He mock gasped. "La Bella doesn't eat sushi?"

"Yeah, not big on the raw fish part of it," I said. I scooped up the small piece of something green that still remained in the water and made a disgusted face as I shook my hand off over his plate.

"Ew," he said, pulling the plate away from my hands.

I pointed at it. "I see neither bread nor cheese, so you fail. In fact, I'm pretty sure this is as far away from bread and cheese as it gets. Thanks for the effort, though."

He pointed at the food. "_Cooked_ crab, avocado, rice, a little seaweed, and creamed cheese." I eyed it dubiously and he sighed. "What are you, five? Just try the damn thing."

"Yes, Captain." I spent a few seconds vacillating before blurting, "So, uh, not to make it awkward or anything, but what the fuck happened back there in the dinning room?"

Edward shook his head. "I'm sorry. It wasn't you, Jasper pisses me off . . . a lot. And I let it get to me. Forgive me?"

I rolled my eyes.

Edward and I ate in amicable silence. He teased me when I tried to use chopsticks and when my eyes watered after I tried wasabi. I refilled the tub twice, adding more bubbles each time as he closed his eyes to allow me some privacy. After almost an hour, I was pleasantly dense and bloated from the water. I pulled a single foot out of the tub and pointed at it.

"Pruny."

He stared blankly at me for a moment before he sighed. "Please watch out," he said quietly, staring sort of at me but not quite. His eyes were a little glazed; the same sort of look I probably had last night after downing that scotch.

"Right, well, I'll do that. But I have gotten out of a tub before, I think." I paused. "So, please let me do this all by my big girl self." He was now looking at the ground and I wondered briefly if he had blown some sort of gorgeous boy fuse, because his face looked sad.

"Jasper treats people with respect," he said. "At first. But once you're in his company under his roof, he'll start to act differently."

"Like, be an asshole? I think he covered that."

"He'll be the best friend you've ever had."

I wasn't sure what to say to this. He reached into his pocket and took out a folded piece of notebook paper, which he tossed on top of my discarded clothing. "I don't mean to be too forward," he said, "but call me if you need anything." He stood up and smiled down at me. "La Bella."

I watched the floor as he left, fighting nausea. I pressed my hands against my stomach. _In one, two. Out one, two. _But it didn't work and I barely had time to scramble from the tub before I vomited violently into the toilet.


	6. Day 3, Part 1: The Playroom

**Day 3: Part 1**

**The Playroom**

I wasn't exactly looking for a homemade breakfast or anything, but I was less than impressed with the box of cereal on the counter. Total; _who the fuck eats Total that's under the age of 70?_ I had 45 years to go before I would be forced to eat that shit and I sure as hell wasn't starting now. I opened the nearest cupboard, finding nothing but utensils and flatware that were all well beyond my breadth of culinary knowledge.

"Slow cooker," I mumbled, staring blankly at the opened cupboard. "Crock pot. Crock pot?"

All foreign words, which was just fine because I burned grilled cheese fifty percent of the time. I'd been making the stuff since I was eight, so . . . whatever. But that was kind of what I did, break expectation boundaries and such. I wasn't impressing anyone. I slept better for it.

Only Total, it would have seemed. Though, in reality, what type of cereal did a twenty five-year-old eat, exactly? Too old for Captain Crunch but too young for assorted bran flakes. I glared at the Total for about thirty seconds after finding nothing but more flatware and foods written in various foreign languages, before settling down on a barstool. I opened the box and was about to pour some in a bowl that was left on the counter when I found a pink Post-It note in the bottom.

_Bella,_

_Good morning! _

_Before you eat, please meet Master and me on the third floor. The door with the terne handle._

_- Tanya_

I groaned out loud and smacked my forehead on the granite countertop. What the hell is terne? More importantly, it was a god-danged miracle I was up before ten thirty and, frankly, I owed them no favors. Sure, Jasper had so ungraciously offered me a place to stay until . . . well, until I found somewhere else.

I looked at the cereal again.

I took the Post-It note out of the bowl. _Was there a red-light district up in these parts?_ I was pretty sure I wasn't above shaking my ass and exposing other little unmentionables to snatch a few twenties. I rose from the barstool to get some milk from the fridge. _Twenties, huh? Was that too little? _I grabbed my right breast and squeezed. A good handful, maybe a grope-and-a-half. _Fifties?_ I grabbed a spoon out of the utensils drawer by the stove.

Emmett would know.

My purse had been, thankfully, lying on the nightstand next to my bed when I woke up and I'd snaked my phone out from its depths before I came downstairs. I took it out.

_Are there any brothels in the area? _

I sent the text to Emmett and my phone dinged almost immediately.

_Going to the other side, are you? That's hot._

_Do you talk to your wife like that? _I placed my phone on the counter and made a gesture to open the cereal, but my phone trilled again. I flipped it open.

_Did you have fun last night?_

I ground my teeth together. _Both touché and fuck you. Triply, I might add._

_Is that even a word?_

_Does it matter, Benedict?_

_Unique. And you wanted to get thrown back in the culture, so here you go. You're fucking welcome._

_Yeah, except Jasper makes my skin crawl._

_Good lord, did you fuck this up already?_

_Shut up, Emmett. Is he always like this?_

_Still hasn't warmed up, I see? And don't you worry your pretty little head about Jake, I got him. Look, you refuse to live with Rosalie and me and refuse to take anymore of our money for electricity. This is getting stupid. I told Jasper you got kicked out of your apartment and he agreed to let you spend some time there. Play nice. Don't be mean. And have lots of girl time._

_Your balls are mine. And I'm pretty sure Jasper's a psychopath. Please pick me up._

_Sorry, babe. And I won't be available to talk for a few hours, but feel free to text me to let me know you're having a good time!_

I chucked the phone angrily back onto the counter, with more force than was probably necessary. I was just about to add the milk to the cereal when a loud, crackling sound burst into the kitchen. I dropped the milk jug and screamed in a whiny, high-pitched embarrassing way that would have made Jake surrender his balls.

"What the fuck?" I almost yelled.

"Bella?" It was Tanya.

"Um, yes?" I looked around the kitchen, trying to find where the voice was coming from. The crackling suggested some sort of intercom. "Where are you coming from?"

"By the fridge, next to the light switch."

I rounded the kitchen table, almost slipping in the spilled milk, and stood in front of the shiny, silver box. I smoothed down my hair and shirt for some inexplicable reason. "Are there cameras here, too?"

"Um, no?"

"Why was that a question?"

"It's weird."

"But a full-housed intercom isn't?"

She didn't say anything.

"What can I do for you, Tanya? And where are your napkins?"

"Why?"

I sighed. "I want to make a napkin play structure. You know, with swings and shit? I missed out on it as a kid and I'm trying to figure out some way to express – "

"Bella."

This time it was Jasper and his voice sufficiently 86-ed my witty response.

"Um, yes?"

"Please join Tanya and I on the third floor. I urge you to ignore whatever mess you have created for the time being."

I immediately bent down and picked up the almost empty milk jug. Its red cap was still on the counter and I attached it to the top before sticking my tongue out at the intercom box. I opened the fridge and put it in, relishing in the soft, final sound of the door as it closed behind me.

"Third door on the left," Jasper said and then the crackling stopped.

I apologized profusely to the Total for my rashness and made my way up the stairs, more than a little annoyed that breakfast was at a standstill. I licked my wrist as I got to the second floor and waiting until I reached the third to smell it. Morning breath. I scrubbed my teeth with one of my fingernails and ran my tongue along them, hoping to clear whatever I could.

_Well, they didn't exactly give me time to pretty myself up_. Though, to my great annoyance, I still ran my fingers through my hair before I reached the door.

_Terne. Huh._

It was a vertical bar, so I pulled on it. But it didn't budge so I pushed on it. I was pretty unwilling to be deterred by a door handle, so I spread my legs shoulder-width apart like they had taught me to do when I took karate as a little kid, before throwing the entirety of my body weight against the door. It opened effortlessly this time and, as I watched the wooden floor rush up to meet me, an arm snaked around my waist and pulled me upward.

"There we go."

Jasper righted me and then stepped away quickly. "Forgive me," he said. "The room is soundproof and I was unable to hear your arrival."

He was . . . smiling? Fuck, that wasn't a question. He was pretty close to beaming as he looked down at me. I raised an eyebrow at him. His smile didn't fade, in fact, to my confused horror, it expanded. Somewhere, in the dark cobwebbed recesses of my mind, I heard Edward's voice – which was slightly squeaky – singing "See how nice he is now? I told you so, I told you so."

I focused back on Jasper's wide smile and my stomach clenched at the sight.

_In one, two. Out one, two._

"Bella, are you all right?" he asked as I squeezed my eyes together, trying to swallow the saliva building in my mouth. "You seem a bit pale. It might be best if you take a seat."

"You talk weird," I blurted, spitting a tad as I did. His smile faded into a smirk. "I mean, you know, it's not _weird_ weird, just not something you'd expect to hear nowadays. If you were from like, the 1800s or something, then I think you'd fair pretty well."

He wasn't smirking anymore, but grinning slightly. I took a deep breath. "What I meant to say was thank you for catching me and no worries because I didn't get hurt."

Jasper nodded his head at me in a very formal way and I rolled my eyes and readied my throat for a scoff, but stopped when his lips pressed into a gorgeous thin line and his eyes narrowed. His eyes were gray.

"All right, then," I said.

And that's when I noticed the room.

The ceiling was high, really high, probably about fifteen or so feet high. The walls were all an ecru-like color, though the ceiling itself was white. But what caught my eye were the things that were along the walls. Rows and rows of paddles, whips, canes, rods, and every other conceivable toy that any Dom would beg to own. Each respective category seemed to have its own little cubby around the room, though they were all upright and organized in some fashion my glazed-over eyes couldn't figure out.

"Goddamn, does that whip have nails on it?" I asked.

"Yes," Jasper said, moving from the doorway. "But I assure you, it's purely ornamental."

I considered telling him I didn't give a fuck, but I was pretty sure _he_ didn't give a fuck about what I thought of his whip, so, for his sake, I let it go. As he walked towards the center of the room, his lithe form making even a muted stroll look disgustingly graceful, I noticed a low-rise table pushed up against one wall with a green folder on it. On the other side of the door, an identical chair to the one I was currently sitting on existed with an ottoman. Between the chairs and to the right of the door, there was an intercom.

But the bench in the middle of the room was undoubtedly the most staggering sight. Sure, the bench itself was a glorious piece of carpentry. It was made out of a dark cherry wood and topped with black leather and from my position on the chair I could see it was in an arc shape, stretching from the floor and upward so its head was pressed against the wall. But it was Tanya, sprawled half-naked and looking quite chagrined, that really made me gawk.

She was not bound to the table in the traditional sense, with the intricately laced ropes James had never mastered, but her arms were stretched above her head in a way that suggested her wrists were cuffed. The arc in the table made her back arch, causing her neck and breasts to stick up well above her hips. Both of her knees were resting on identical wood slabs alongside the bulk of the bench, also topped out with leather, and the slabs seemed to bear the brunt of her weight. I immediately recognized Tanya's strained expression; she was being punished.

Goddamn.

Jasper looked at me. "Would you like to know why Tanya is here?"

"Sure," I said.

He rounded the bench and placed his hands gently on either side of her face. "Tanya did not properly prepare your room last night before you turned in." He looked down at her. "Did you?"

"No, Master," she breathed.

"Oh, I don't – " I started, but Jasper slowly raised one of his hands up.

"Please, Bella. If you would let me speak."

I frowned.

"If you recall, Bella, I asked Tanya to prepare a room for you last night." He raised a single, perfectly sculpture eyebrow at me and, against all that was holy, I nodded in agreement. "However, she forgot to turn down the comforter of your bedding. Which is both inappropriate and inexcusable."

I squashed an urge to laugh nervously. "Seriously, it's not – "

"Bella," he said curtly. "If you speak again, I will have to ask you to leave. And," he continued, a weird glint of something unfriendly in his eyes, "if I am not mistaken, you have few options outside of my home."

My stomach churned and I was, for the first time, grateful that I hadn't eaten the Total. This room was ridiculously clean and I wasn't particularly interested in revisiting my breakfast. "Right, sorry," I mumbled.

Jasper smiled. "So, Tanya must be punished for her behavior." He walked over to the far side of the room and my eyes followed his lean legs. Something shiny but undistinguishable glinted off the tip of his shoes and I realized, with a small squeak of astonishment, that he was wearing _cowboy_ boots.

_How weirdly sexy and oddly inappropriate for Jasper._ I racked my mind, trying to uncover whether he had always been wearing cowboy boots or whether it was just something he did in his playroom. I couldn't remember. He was now walking alongside the far wall, clearly looking for a whip of some kind. And, as I watched his delicious body scan the wall, I noticed that it wasn't just his shoes that were different. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, tight throughout his legs, a leather belt with a wide, silver buckle, and a fitted Rolling Stones t-shirt that was stretched around the neck, marking its age. Around his left wrist was a two-by-two inch slab of brown leather, tied around by two thin strands of leather, holding it in place. The local symbol of a Dom.

My mouth watered.

Jasper finally found the whip that he wanted and plucked it from the wall, uncurling the length from its base.

"Tanya?"

"Y-Yes, Master?"

"The single tail?"

"Y-Yes, Master."

He turned to her, pulling his eyebrow together. "Why are you stuttering, Tanya?"

"My feet, Master."

"What is wrong with them?" He walked over to the bench and squatted down by her feet, which were painted a garish sort of hot pink, and ran his long fingers over the strap that held them together.

_Holy fuck, _I thought, _I bet he knows how to use those fingers for all that is good._

Welcomed images of naked Jasper riding a horse, wearing his cowboy boots but nothing else, ran prettily through my mind. I must have been grinning or something, because Jasper said my name a bit curtly.

"Bella."

"Hmm?" I asked, my eyes coming back into focus. Why the hell would I imagine Jasper when his gloriousness was parading around – however unfortunately clothed – right in front of me. Though, judging by the un-amused expression on his face, we were clearly not in the same headspace.

"Is something humorous?" he asked.

"Not really," I said, trying to wipe the shit-eating grin off my face. "Sorry."

"Now, Tanya," he said, speaking to her with his eyes on me. "How many lashes?"

My stomach flipped and I thought for sure I was about to vomit. Though James had been a complete all-around type of asshole, punishment for James had truly been about pain. Unlike what I'd witnessed in other households. I was pretty sure that Jasper was evil brought to life, and the idea of seeing Tanya being hurt, well, made me a bit sick.

"Fifteen, Master."

I pulled my knees to my chest, prepared to slam my hands over my eyes if necessary. Jasper raised the whip in the air and brought it down with a solid crack that made me jump, but he hadn't hit her. He was just playing with my frayed nerves by testing it. Or something like that.

"Where are we, Tanya?"

"Green, Master."

"Count for me, please."

"Yes, Master."

The first blow came down with a crack just as loudly as the first. This time, though, I was more prepared and, to my embarrassment, my hands flew to my eyes before the whip landed.

"One," Tanya said.

Another crack and I felt bile begin to rise in my throat.

"Two."

_What the fuck are you doing? Just look already. If she's bleeding all over the place, just throw up all over his perfectly clean floor and get the fuck out of here._

I separated my middle fingers and peered out at Tanya just as another lash fell. The end of the whip was hitting her straight onto her exposed stomach. But there wasn't really anything to show for it aside from a small red mark. She had three of them. Separated by maybe an inch or so. But there was no blood, no welt, no nothing. Just a mark. As though I had prodded her belly with my finger and was watching the blood rejoin the top layer of her skin.

"Five."

I was mostly startled. A little confused and quite a bit horny, only because Jasper looked like a god when he was flinging that whip, but mostly startled. Her face twisted a bit with each blow he landed. Apparently it didn't feel good, but it looked like he was barely touching her. _Is this how it's supposed to be?_

"Eight."

And then it felt like my world stopped for a minute. This _was_ how it was supposed to be, wasn't it? Punishment not for pain's sake, but punishment for _punishment's _sake. It wasn't about pain, it was about _punishment. _Suddenly, I felt even more nauseous than I had before.

"Fifteen."

"Where are we?"

"Green, Master."

I looked back over at Tanya and Jasper and immediately my nausea went away. He was squatting next to the head of the bench, running one hand through her hair, wiping away the sweat from her forehead. She was frowning slightly, but leaning into his hand. He was whispering something in a very low voice, and from my position on the opposite side of the room, I couldn't hear him.

He undid her bindings and helped her off the bench. She collapsed immediately into his arms and a weird twisting sensation flashed through my stomach.

He grabbed the green folder off the table and brought her to the chair on the other side of the door, placing her on the ground between his legs. He settled himself in the chair and put the folder on his lap. She leaned backward and he ran his fingers absently through her hair.

"Bella," Jasper said to me without raising his head. "First, in this folder contain the house rules. They are both extremely important and non-negotiable." He passed the folder to me. I took it and put it on my lap, not opening it. "Second, I want to fully explain Tanya's punishment to you. I understand you are not familiar with the particular type of Dom and sub relationship Tanya and I have?"

He looked up at me and I shook my head.

"Well," he said, his eyes flashing for a second. "I am going to be relatively straight forward with you, since you truly seem like a decently smart girl."

I narrowed my eyes at him and his lips parted in a small grin. I didn't know Jasper, but from the way his top lip curled slightly over his canine teeth, I understood that his grin was not one of sunshine and roses. In fact, he looked very much like a predator. A predator posing as a house pet.

_He's going to eat me, _I thought absently.

_With any luck, _another voice inside my head snapped back.

"Tanya _needs_ to wait on people," Jasper said. "It is ingrained within her." I opened my mouth to speak, but he waved his hand dismissively at me and I frowned deeply in response. "Her history is of no concern to you. However, I implore you to listen. In fact, I quite demand it."

"Yeah, I'm – "

He hadn't actually said anything, only cocked his head slowly to one side in a gesture that clearly said "are _you_ talking when _I'm_ talking?" It made me want to scowl. But it had sufficiently shut me up. He smiled.

I looked down at my hands.

"Which means," he continued, as though he hadn't been interrupted, "that you do nothing for yourself while you are in this house. If you are hungry, you ask Tanya to cook for you. If you decide to bathe, you ask her to warm the water for you. If you require your laundry washed, she does it. If you can not fall asleep, you ask her to sing you a fucking lullaby."

_Fucking? _Though his voice was calm to the point of disconcertment, the word sounded strange as it left his lips, almost ugly. For some inexplicable reason, I wanted to sink into the back of the overstuffed chair until I was completely immersed in the starchy leather. I would hide there, biding my time until Jasper stopped searching for me and, when the coast was really clear, would make a mad dash for the kitchen, grab my purse, and bolt out the door.

_Excellent plan, Bella. _Even my inner-voice was condescending. _Never mind the fact that you're a walking disaster with a perma-inner ear problem. I'm not quite sure barreling through the house on the off chance that you might _not_ fall is your best course of action here._

"Right, well, I'll make sure to do that," I said while, to my great annoyance, still staring at my hands. A rush of goosebumps ran over my arms and I watched as they sprang to life. He was fucking staring at me again. I squashed down the urge to shift uncomfortably in my seat.

When I did look up, he was smiling. I narrowed my eyes and glowered as evilly as I could at him, now fighting an urge to smack his forehead with the butt of my hand. His grin broadened a little and he looked . . . sheepish? Apologetic? I couldn't read his expression.

My anger snapped. "Would you stop _staring_ at me, please? It's really creepy and not at all becoming of you."

For only the slightest of moments, Jasper's eyes grew wide. I mentally pumped my fists as Edward's squeaky voice congratulated me on my victory. But before I was able to break out into dance in the playroom about it, Jasper had rearranged his features into a mask of indifference.

At least, I thought it was a mask. And then he smirked.

I almost leapt across the remaining three feet between us. The room was still soundproof and I was glad I wouldn't have to worry about keeping my voice down as I strangled him. I just needed to muster up some semblance of calm and collect myself from the chair, bid Jasper and Tanya – I looked at Tanya, who was now fast asleep – bid Jasper goodbye and drive my happy ass to Emmett's.

Instead, I yelled, "What the _hell_ is so goddamn funny?"

But Jasper just sat there with a nasty little smile on his face. When he didn't make any motion to speak, I threw my hands rather violently into the air. "You know what, never mind." I picked myself up from the chair. "Thank you for helping me yesterday, but I have to go."

But as I touched the terne door handle, my stomach clenched unexpectedly and with such viciousness that I brought both hands to it and bent over a little. I swallowed back a ridiculous amount of saliva and prayed that I wouldn't ruin my grand escape by vomiting all over the place.

_In one, two. Out one, two. In one, two. Out one, two. _I chanted repeatedly until my heartbeat died a bit and I felt un-nauseated enough to straighten myself. With a dignified huff, I righted the hemline of my shirt and, without looking back at Jasper, opened the door.

"Emmett is now out of town," Jasper said, his voice just as infuriatingly calm.

"No," I said, against my wishes, thinking about the text barrage I had sent Emmett while musing over the Total. "He told me to call him back in a few hours when I talked to him last."

"As he is most likely now on an airplane," Jasper said evenly. The coolness of his voice was gone now. Instead, it deepened and a soft drawl that hadn't been present before now crept around the edges of his words, softening them. I found this change of inflection much more alarming than any of the arrogant words that had preceded it.

I turned to face him. He was no longer smiling, though his head was bowed and he was looking at me from the tops of his eyes, one hand still playing absently with Tanya's hair. He blinked once, slowly, and then raised his eyebrows a little.

"Well," I said, trying to put a little sarcasm and condescension into my voice, but it shook all the same. "Since you seem to know so much about Emmett's whereabouts, care to tell me when he'll be back?"

"I do not know," he said, still looking at me.

I crossed my arms as more goosebumps prickled them. "So, you just agreed to let me stay here for what, an indefinite amount of time?"

"I agreed to keep you safe," he said, a ghost of a smile turning the edges of his mouth upward. "As far as I am aware, keeping someone safe does not usually dictate an expiration date."

"Right," I said, "well, as fun as your wit and complete lack of tact are – "

"Tact is just lying for grown ups."

I shut my mouth so quickly I felt my teeth clank together. "_What_?"

"Tact," he said, repeating the word slowly, "is just lying for grown ups."

Something felt inherently wrong with his statement, though with goosebumps covering me from head to foot and a weird, barely controlled anger causing the wet pounding of my heart in my ears, I couldn't articulate my reason for it.

"I'm going to go," I said in a small voice that angered me further. "To m-my mother's."

"I suppose you will require some money for gas? If I remember correctly," he said, smiling in a self-deprecatory way, "and I am sure I do, your mother lives about two hours from here?"

"I have gas money," I said, crossing my arms tighter against my chest, "but _thanks_."

"I was not offering assistance," he said, his smile fading slightly. "But _thanks_ for your blind assumptions."

I paused, completely at a loss for how to respond. I had no options. The asshole was right, my mother lived too far away, my father was dead, Emmett may or may not be out of town, and . . . that was it. I had no options.

I grinned at Jasper. I had one option.

Jasper finally turned his gaze from me and stared, still smiling slightly, at the top of Tanya's head. After a few moments of silence, I turned around, pulled on the terne handle, and left. I walked with some composure down the third floor hallway, but when I got to the landing I bolted down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen, grabbing my purse where I had left it on top of the island. I hesitated for only a minute before ignoring the puddle of milk that remained on the floor. I did, however, swipe the unopened box of Total off the counter.

It was an immense surprise, and then no surprise at all, that I had taken the green folder with me.


	7. Day 3, Part 2: Alice

**Day 3: Part 2**

**Alice**

I drove to the gas station outside of my home and looked despairingly at the gas meter of my truck. I flicked open my cell phone and scrolled through the contacts, looking for Edward's number. My stomach sank almost immediately and I swore loudly, almost chucking the phone out of the car window. Digging a few moments through the unruly contents of my purse yielded the same results.

_Who the fuck gives you a phone number on a goddamn piece of paper instead of plugging it into your phone like any other normal human being? It leaves desperate girls stranded unwittingly in front of dilapidated gas stations in the middle of fucking no man's land._

"Fuck," I said, gripping the worn leather of the steering wheel and pulling it towards me until it groaned in protest. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

My phone trilled and I started violently. Grumbling, and praying it was Emmett, I flicked open my phone and stared at the screen.

_Edward's number. You really had nowhere else to go._

I clenched my teeth and ground them against themselves. It was from Tanya's number but clearly written by Jasper. I felt a little like screaming, a little like vomiting, and a lot like bursting into tears in a very prepubescent way. I reached across the passenger seat and searched through the contents of my upturned purse until I found my cigarettes. I shook the empty pack and threw it angrily on the floor of the car.

I leaned against the headrest and put the butts of my hands against my eyelids, breathing deeply. Really, I needed to think. I could run into the gas station and steal a pack of cigarettes. If the old man behind the counter, who was so wrinkly I was convinced he was mashed potatoes come to life, was stupid enough to leave unlocked bottles of expensive alcohol by the front door, surely he had things stolen often. What was a five-dollar pack of cigarettes if not just one more annoyance for the old man?

_Morals?_

With only another moment of panicky indecision, I flicked open my phone and dialed Edward's number. It rang once and a woman's voice answered, asking me to please be patient while my party was being reached. And then a song came on; some classical piano and violin montage that made me want to simultaneously cry and rip my hair out.

"Cullen."

"Edward?"

"Yes? May I ask who's calling?"

"It's, uh, it's Bella. From last night. You know, the sushi." I smacked my palm against my forehead. Really? Sushi? Not,_ Hey, we had a relatively in depth conversation about neuropsychology _or _you were totally right, your brother's a real douchebag._

Edward chuckled. "La Bella. How are you?"

I grasped a low-handing piece of my hair in my hand and wrapped my fingers tightly around the strands, pulling the chunk taut so my scalp burned. My nail polish was chipped and my fingernails were chipped and a few wisps got trapped in between the broken crevices of my fingers. It felt right.

"Bella?"

I cleared my throat. "Sorry, my phone cut out." I took a deep breath. "Um, I'm good, how are you?"

"Doing fine. I'm actually at work right now. Do you mind if I call you back later?"

I pulled on my strand of hair and felt my stomach roll. I closed my eyes. _In one, two. Out one, two._

"Yeah," I croaked, squirming in my seat at the uncomfortable bubbling of panic in my stomach. "That'd be fine. Um, when do you get off?"

"I'm not actually sure. Is there an emergency or something? You sound weird." His voice, which had originally been distant, snapped back into focus. "Oh fuck," he sighed. "It's Jasper, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, sort of."

He paused for a moment and in a resigned voice said, "Six-nine-six-seven Wood Run Road. The garage code is oh-five-one-three." My whole body seemed to sag in response. "I don't know when I'll be home, but there's plenty of food and a television. Feel free to do whatever you'd like, okay?"

"Thanks," I said. "Look, I promise I'll get out of your hair really soon, I just need, I don't know, a night or something."

"You'll stay as long as you need to."

I hung up quickly. I texted Emmett a quick "fuck you" and plugged my phone into my car charger. I hesitated before parking my car and heading into the gas station. I didn't swipe the cigarettes like I had originally intended, but I took a local map, which I folded carefully into a small square as I pretended to peruse the candy aisle, and stuffed it into my bra before heading out the door.

See, I could be a good person. Or something like that.

His house was beautiful, of course. It didn't have the classic elegance and sharp corners and ancient furniture that Jasper's did, but perched atop a little hill far in the depths of forest outside of town, it was grand in its own right. I sat in my car outside of it for a moment, parked on the further end of the circular driveway, my head pressed against the cool glass of my window, taking stock of my situation.

I had no clothes. No toiletry products. Only the gaudy outfit I had worn last night, which still, to my annoyed disgust, only left me with my hooker boots. I had my purse, but it only held my phone, keys, wallet, and whatever miscellaneous stuff I hadn't emptied out of it yet. I certainly didn't have any money.

Or dignity.

I heaved myself out of my car and walked towards the garage, plugging in the code on a small side panel and watched, with a panicky expression, as it opened. It was a four-car garage and in it sat three cars. One was a dark, Batcar-looking machine with a dark exterior and tinted windows. Next to it was a horrifically yellow convertible, Porsche if I could label it properly. On the other side of that was a dark Mercedes.

I looked back towards my truck, taking note of the missing headlight and bent frame on the passenger side door. A wave of something resembling embarrassment made me fight the urge to run back to it and park it inside the garage.

Instead, I weaved my way between the cars and opened the screen door, holding it open with my ass as I opened the door to the house. I put my purse down on the white tile in the laundry room and kicked my boots off.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?"

I screamed a little and turned towards the kitchen. Wearing a face of annoyed fury and brandishing a floor lamp, was a tiny little girl with spiky black hair, who was pointing the lamp at my head like she was ready to scream "en garde" and take a lunge.

"Oh, fuck," I groaned. "He has a girlfriend."

"Who has a girlfriend?" she asked, jabbing the lamp a little towards me. "I'm not afraid of you," she added.

"I have no doubt," I said dryly, and I believed it as much as I believed I would burn my hooker boots before I ever wore them again. "I talked to Edward, he invited me over." She thrust the lamp at me again and I jumped back. "Dammit," I said. "Put that down, would you? I'm not breaking in."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "How do you know Edward?"

"I met him last night when I was at his brother's house. I'm in a bit of a, um,_ tight_ spot, and he offered to let me stay here with him. I'm not fucking him, I promise."

"Fucking him?" she asked vaguely. And then, in the same distant tone, "you were at his brother's last night? At . . . Jasper's?"

"Yeah?"

Her angry expression vanished almost immediately and what replaced it was a blank look. Even her eyes seemed out of focus. I was about seventy-five percent sure I could have made a break for it, had she not been wielding a floor lamp that trumped her height by about three feet.

Her expression came back into focus a moment later and she jabbed the lamp at me again. She contemplated me for a moment. "Are you Tanya?"

"No, I'm Bella. And I am _totally_ not fucking Edward. Though props to you if you are."

"Bella? As in, La Bella?"

It took me a moment to respond to that. I opened my mouth to confirm, but my throat seemed too tight to speak. I nodded instead. She grinned a Cheshire Cat smile at me and put the floor lamp down, much to my immediate relief.

"You tramp," she said, still grinning.

"Thanks?"

Then she attacked me, much like Tanya had done the previous evening, throwing her little body at me with more force than I would have guessed possible. She was such a tiny little thing that when she pressed her body up against me, she was able to put her face against the edge of my neck. I didn't return the hug, though she rocked me from side to side for a moment before releasing me and smiling hugely.

"I'm Alice," she said simply, then turned, picked up the floor lamp, and scampered away somewhere beyond the kitchen.

_Oh my god, _I thought, _she's crazy. I have to leave._

"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back!" she called. So I stood there, rooted on the spot by indecision, before she came bounding back into the kitchen, her hands clasped together. "Guess what I have?" she asked, grinning.

"An unused prescription for some ADHD medication?"

"Edward said you were funny." She grabbed my hand and steered me towards the refrigerator. She opened it and made a grand gesture a la car show model to the contents inside. I stared blankly at the various assorted foods, my stomach growling loudly.

"Food is good," I said.

She clicked her tongue and pulled out a large, round platter from the bottom shelf to show me. I immediately recognized the individual pieces of sushi, dozens of them, arranged in cute little rows. I groaned.

"He told you everything, didn't he?" I asked and she nodded brightly, her spiked hair remaining motionless. "And who are you, by the way?"

She lay the tray down adroitly onto the island in the middle of the kitchen and peeling off the plastic lid. "No wasabi, right?"

"Right . . ." I said. Alice put together all the pieces of sushi onto two plates and gestured for me to follow her past the kitchen and into the living room. She sat the food down onto the coffee table, taking up residence on the three-seated sofa beside it. I stared at the food for a moment before a heavy pressure in my chest altered me to the fact that I needed a cigarette. Now.

"I'm going to go outside really quick and . . . fuck," I moaned, throwing my hands over my eyes. "Never mind." I looked down at Alice, who looked appropriately perplexed. "You, uh, you don't have a cigarette by chance?"

"Sure do, but they're menthol," she said, getting up from the couch. "And you can smoke in here."

"Gah," I mumbled, "thank you, it's been, like, 20 hours since I've had one and I feel like my brain is going to drip out of my ears or something similarly unpleasant."

Alice walked into some room beyond the living room and reemerged, shaking a pack of menthols at me.

"So," I said, folding my legs underneath me and sitting down next to her. I took a cigarette and the lighter from the pack and lit it as she passed an ashtray towards me. "Why did you ask if I was Tanya?"

She paused for a moment, her chopsticks posed a few inches from her mouth. With a soft squirm of amusement, I thought of Edward's guilty but self-amused grin last night at the edge of the bathtub. "You came from Jasper's?"

"Yeah."

"Well . . . I was Jasper's sub before Tanya."

"Oh," I said, now vividly recalling the conversation I'd had with Edward on Jasper's dinning room last night. Awkward silence fell quickly, due in no small part to the fact that we had both simultaneously stopped eating and smoking. "So, we can have a Jasper-bashing session?"

Alice laughed and, like Tanya, it sounded of tinkling bells. "Sure, sure."

I uncrossed my legs and planted them on the ground so I could prop my elbows on my knees and lean in closer. "So, why's he such an asshole?"

Alice furrowed her eyebrows together. "Asshole?"

"Yeah, I mean, he's a total dick and, honestly, I can't figure out what the hell I did." My smile faltered a little as she continued to look confused. "I mean," I said, a little off-balanced, "I guess I was, I don't know, cheekier than I should have been, but I mean, _come on_, surely you know."

"He's an asshole to you?" she asked quietly. She was looking at me but in a weird sort of vague way that reminded me of a video I had seen as a little kid, where a ship-wrecked man had come home after many years lost at sea only to look all distant and as fucked up as Alice did now.

"Well, yeah," I said. "I mean, Edward warned me that he – " But I had cut myself off. Pictures of Edward's delectable face floated briefly into the forefront of my mind, his reddish lips pulled downward into an intense frown as he told me about Jasper's penchant for emotional flip-flopping. "Well, he told me – "

_What had Edward told me?_ That Jasper was a jerk, but . . . once I was alone, he'd _be the best friend you've ever had._ I looked at Alice, whose expression had changed drastically in the few moments of my reminiscence. She had resumed eating, though her smiled hadn't quite returned.

"It's all good, though," I said, "I made some cutting remarks which I'm sure wounded his feelings severely."

When she didn't reply, I opened my mouth to say something else, anything else, when I heard my phone ring from the laundry room. Without looking at Alice, I hopped up awkwardly and stumbled my way past the kitchen and towards my purse.

"Hello, Emmett," I said into the phone, my voice absolutely dripping with poorly concealed annoyance.

"Bells!" he said. "When are you going to pick your fucking mutt up?"

I froze. "What?"

"When are you picking Jake up," he almost yelled, speaking above a loud barking and then a string of angry growls. "He and Jared are just _not_ getting along."

I swallowed. "What?"

"I know you don't have any power in your apartment, but could you just come over and, I don't know, _pet_ him or something? He's driving Rosalie mad." He sighed over the line. I could hear the unmistakable sound of Rosalie's screeching cries in the background.

"What?"

"I said it's great down here on earth. What's it like where you are?"

My stomach rolled, a slow and aching wave. _In one, two. Out one, two. In one, two. Out one, two. _"Are you out of town? Are you going to be out of town?"

"Well, I'm not exactly taking Jake and Jared anywhere with me anytime soon, so – "

"Did you tell someone you were going out of town? Anyone?"

"Dammit, Jared!" Emmett barked as another round of angry snarls slipped through the line. "Rosalie, darling, just put Jared in the den! No, Bella, I'm not going nor do I have plans of going out of town. Can you just get over here, please? Bella?"

The nausea was too great. With a great motion, I made an awkward dash from the laundry room and into the kitchen, where I vomited violently into the sink. Well, heaved would be more appropriate, since I hadn't really eaten anything in about sixteen hours. I silently thanked the gods for the combined fiascos of spilling copious amounts of milk and for awkward silences with Alice.

"Oh, Jesus, did you just puke?" Emmett asked, groaning slightly. "I don't suppose you have any alcohol on you."

I spit into the sink. "No, I don't really make it a habit to carry cans of beer around with me. Though I'm not entirely opposed to the idea." I took a deep breath, testing the way the expansion of my stomach felt underneath my hand. "Dude, Jasper fucking lied to me."

"What? Why would he do that?"

"I don't know," I said. "I don't pretend to understand the inner-workings of a psychopath. He told me you were out of town which is why I couldn't come see you after I stormed out of his place today."

Emmett groaned again, loudly and dramatically. "Goddammit, Bella."

"What?" I asked, bristling. "He's a _psychopath_. What the hell did I do?"

"Look, I love you Bells," he said, "but you are a bit socially inappropriate at times."

"W-What?" I spluttered, suddenly feeling indignant. "Unless you're saying that there's a solid reason for why he'd _lie_ to me about you being out of town, then how does this have anything to do with me?"

Rosalie screeched in the background again and screamed Emmett's name. "Maybe there was some confusion or something."

"Emmett, _he told me you were out of town_!"

"Maybe he was thinking of someone else. Look, Bella – "

"EMMETT!" I almost screamed, a familiar bubbling of panic rising from my stomach and up into my throat. "Listen to me!"

"Can I talk to you about this later? I promise I'll sit down and chat with you, but in the meantime, can you make arrangements to pick your fucking dog up?"

I felt the fierce burn of anger in my body and was almost certain that my face was a deep shade of red. "No," I hissed, my teeth gritted. "I can't, and why do you have Jake anyway?"

"Um," Emmett said, and I could hear the beginnings of condescension in his tone. "Maybe because you don't have any fucking electricity and I didn't want him to freeze to death?"

"Fuck you," I spat, "how about you lock him in the fucking bathroom until I can get around to picking him up. We can have our _chat_ then." I knew I was being immature and, though I hated to admit it, slightly inappropriate, but what-the-fuck-ever. If Emmett was going to be a masterful bitch, then he could deal with two four-pound dogs entangled in a territorial pissing contest all by his big boy self.

I hung up and turned to lean on the counter, pressing my phone to my forehead. Alice slinked up beside me and leaned her head into my arm.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," I said curtly. "I'm fine."

"Well," she said, "I was eavesdropping and was just . . . concerned."

I looked down at her, which was quite the impressive feat considered I was barely five-foot-seven. "Yeah, thanks."

Then she turned to me and wrapped her arms fiercely around me. She buried her tiny head into my chest and squeezed tightly. I opened my mouth to make some witty remark when, to my astounded horror, I felt a prickle of something behind my eyes.

"Alice," I said in a little, choked voice, "Alice, I – "

"You need some food, seeing as you kind of just puked."

"Succinctly stated," I said, and allowed her to drag me back to the living room, where she pulled me down next to her on the couch and passed me my untouched plate of sushi. I looked down at the multi-colored food and smiled slightly. "Thanks."

"You know," she said, reaching across the table to grab another packet of soy sauce. From her pleasant expression and equally pleasant voice, it seemed that the weird moment that passed between us in the kitchen had fixed whatever awkwardness had beheld us earlier. "Edward's a really good guy."

I threw my chopsticks on the table with a huff and picked up a piece of sushi with my fingers. "Oh? You don't _like_ him, do you?"

She laughed. "No, no, but not from a lack of trying."

I grinned, though it was a little forced. Emmett's rejection was still lodged deeply in my tight throat. "Oh?" I said in a provocative tone.

"Yeah," she said, "we tried, but, you know . . ."

And I did know. I knew the feeling; the hopelessness of meeting guys who seemed interested in you, the awkwardness involved. The tight, almost embarrassing feeling in the back of your throat when someone asked for your number. I had given up bars entirely in favor of being a hermit in perpetual isolation.

Well, maybe not _in favor of_. More like _I don't really have a fucking choice._

"And you know what the best part of it all is?" Alice asked and I was under the impression she had continued talking despite my lack of a response.

"Hmm?" I shoved another piece of sushi in my mouth.

"The whip," she whispered and a series of goosebumps shot up my arms. "I mean, and as much of a jerk as he is, have you seen him use one yet?"

"Jasper?" I asked stupidly. "Yeah, for a moment." My mouth went dry and it was not without effort that I swallowed the remaining food.

"So you know," she said sagely, winking at me.

Despite myself, a slight grin turned the corners of my mouth upwards. Jasper, sweating slightly and completely shirtless, with his cowboy boots and leather bracelet on, holding the whip over his head, his lithe muscles rippling slightly with the effort.

"I know," I said, my grin stretching a bit across my face. "I know."

We ate in silence for a moment, before Alice spoke. "Edward likes you, you know. He talked about you all night."

My stomach squirmed in an uncomfortable but not altogether unpleasant way. "Is he going to kill you for telling me that?"

She nodded brightly. "Probably."

I sighed.

"Jasper is unique," she said, and I felt my body tense. My stomach rolled and I actually had to bite my tongue in order to stop myself from telling her to shut the fuck up. "He's . . . difficult. Complex. Can give you everything you want only to take it all away the next day. On a whim. For no apparent reason."

I barked out a bitter laugh. "That I have no trouble believing." She raised her eyebrows at me. "He was very cold to me at first and I kind of assumed it was completely unfounded. It bugged the absolute shit out of me. And then, at one point, he smiled at me. And it was just . . . weird."

"The shark smiles, as I like to call them," she said and I laughed. "Pay attention, it's when he's most pleased with himself."

"Himself?"

"Yeah. He never smiles at you. Only at himself."

"I thought he hated me," I said quietly. "And then when he smiled . . ."

"You thought he liked you."

"Yeah," I said, suddenly feeling like a fucking idiot. Sensing my abrupt change in mood perhaps, she leaned over the couch until her head rested against my shoulder. "I like you, Alice," I said. She nodded against my shirt.

"This looks promising."

Alice and I both started at the sound and I turned around on the couch, wiping some odd liquid that had managed to fall onto my cheeks, to face Edward. He wasn't wearing his lab coat like I had expected, but instead a sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He was glistening slightly and holding a basketball between his hand and hip. A duffle bag was thrown over his shoulder. And he was smiling widely at the two of us.

I surreptitiously checked my mouth for drool.

"Why do you have to be such an awkward perv?" Alice asked, shaking her head. "You're a _doctor_."

"When did you get in, Alice?" Edward asked, ignoring her barb. "I thought you were going up north for the weekend."

She grinned. "About ten minutes before I attacked Bella with the lamp from your office."

He looked appropriately alarmed. "I thought we decided that wasn't a proper greeting tool."

I looked at Alice. "This is something you've done before?"

Edward gave a mock sigh. "Something she does often."

"_Does_?"

Alice sighed but stuck her tongue out at Edward. "I've gotten better."

"Ha!" he said.

"Don't tease me about my hobbies, Edward," Alice said good-naturedly. "I don't tease you about being an asshole."

My mouth dropped.

Edward grinned. "Hobbies? Paint a model car for Christ's sake. Take up knitting. Don't attack people with lighting fixtures."

"It's only a fixture if it's attached to the _wall_," Alice said.

"Appliance?" he asked.

"Kitchen."

"Utensil?"

"Still kitchen."

"A pencil is a utensil."

"But alas, it is not a pencil," Alice said. "It's a lamp."

Edward looked dubious.

"You want me to Webster that shit?" Alice said and he held up his hands.

"I believe you." He placed the duffle bag on the ground in the kitchen and plopped himself quite indelicately into the loveseat next to the couch. I patted the top of my head to try and tame whatever loose strands of hair had mutinously decided to make a break for it. "But round two is mine."

Alice hummed noncommittally before collecting herself off the couch, grabbing the empty plates from the table and making her way quickly upstairs. _Subtlety at its most brilliant, _I thought heatedly, my warm feelings for Alice evaporating a bit as her shadow disappeared up the staircase. Awkward silence fell quickly. My eyes were surveying the room, taking notice of the expansive book collection on the far wall and the absolutely massive television in front of the couches. I was acutely aware of Edward's presence near me and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, grateful to be finally rid of leather seating furniture that seemed to perpetuate Emmett's and Jasper's homes.

"So . . ." I said, discomfort finally forcing me to speak. "How was work?"

"Good," Edward said, shortly, continuing to drum his fingers rhythmically on the armrest of his couch.

"You know, Edward," I said slowly, "I don't actually speak Morse code."

"Want to take a shower with me?"

I turned my head slowly to look at him. His face was bright red but a determined sort of look made his lips thin. "_Excuse me_? Care to clarify that?"

"I meant to say," he said, turning even pinker, and looking down at his hands, "do you want to come in the bathroom with me while _I_ take a shower."

"Oh, that's much better," I said sarcastically, picking myself up from the couch. "Asshole."

I stormed angrily into the kitchen towards my purse, both flustered and – though I hated to admit it – quite disappointed.

"Wait, Bella!"

"You're a sick fuck," I said, opening the door to the laundry room and grabbing my purse. I turned to leave, but he was standing in the threshold, both hands on either side of the doorframe, prohibiting my exit. "Get out of the way!"

"What - no, Bella. No, listen," he said, his face contorted into an expression I didn't recognize, "that's not what I meant."

I crossed my arms across my chest. "Then what is this, like, payback? For letting me stay here? Because that's fucking – "

"NO," he said, almost yelling, "no, it's just that . . ." He let go off the doorframe and pulled at the strands at the top of his head. It would have been disgustingly comical, had he not just uttered the perviest thing I'd pretty much ever heard come out of someone's mouth. "Last night, at Jasper's, while you were in the tub, well, it was _good_ for me."

"I was naked."

"Well, yeah, but . . ." He pulled harder on the strands. "Dammit, you're making this hard!"

"You have five seconds to fix this before I kick you in the balls."

He opened his mouth and then shut it again.

"Three."

"It didn't – it didn't have anything to do with your . . . _nakedness._" His voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper. "I just, well, I had fun, okay?"

"Two."

"What?" Still attached to his strands of hair, he turned even pinker. "Look, you don't seem like the type of person to really open up to people and in the tub, you seemed really relaxed or something, and we were able to talk and, and stuff, and I thought that it would easier for you to talk about whatever the fuck Jasper did if you were in a setting that agreed with you." Noting my unchanged expression, he finished, a little lamely, "Or something like that."

He was still sweating a bit and dark marks under his armpits suggested he had worked out considerably. A very welcomed image of Edward jumping with a basketball propped between his hands, shooting the ball into the basket with a wide grin on his face quelled my fury pretty quickly. He was still tugging on the hair on top of his head, pulling on the roots so hard that the far edges of his eyebrows were raised, giving him a slightly maniacal look.

It was pretty endearing. And, while my instincts demanded I bolted as quickly from the laundry room as humanly possible, I found myself frozen on the spot.

Perhaps it was validation. After James, and after each day that drifted by without so much as a whisper to let me know I was still beautiful, still whole, I had a man, while not my ideal by any means, who was doing nothing short of begging me to see him. The inner-girl in me screamed with delight and my ovaries quivered again in anticipation.

"All right, Captain."


	8. Day 3, Part 3: The Bathroom

**Day 3: Part 3**

**The Bathroom**

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"Succinctly summarized," Edward said. "Not the response I usually get, but thanks all the same."

"Holy fuck," I reiterated. "I mean, _damn_."

Edward followed my gaze as I stared, stupefied, at the master bathroom. For starters, it was the color of orangey-sand. Like the way the beach might look in the red off a sunset. Of course, I had never actually _been_ to a beach when the sun was setting, thanks to my father's insistence that I would most probably drown if I ever approached a body of water larger than my bathtub, but it was exactly how I'd imagined it would look. Large brown, orange, and beige tiles in a material I didn't know formed large, tiled squares that ran from the door to the tub, which was, of course, built directly into the wall. But not really in the way that the tub-slash-shitty shower was built into my apartment wall. Rather, it was resting against the corner of the bathroom, turned slightly sideways so that both ends of the tub hit the walls on either side. That left a lot of open space around the tub and the walls, but the sand colored tiles rose from the ground and created a sort of holding place for it.

Around the edges of the tub, where wide areas of tiles left flat spaces, were odd and decidedly un-masculine sets of ornaments. A small vase with a single calla lily, a small pile of light tan hand towels, various small bottles filled with unmarked contents, and –

"Oh my god, seriously?" I asked, grabbing a small box of something off the side of the tub. "You really do have bath beads. How awesomely girly of you."

"I told you I knew what they were."

"We're both going to pretend Alice put them in here." I flipped the box over and read the back. Freesia.

He crossed his arms in a very defensive sort of way. "Alice _did_ put them in here. If you'll notice, they're not used. I just let her do it because it makes her feel useful."

"And on the day the term "flimsy excuse" was invented, we all sat around and watched in awe."

"Brat."

I put the bath beads back on the ledge and peered over the side of the tub. It was disgustingly white and full of silver nozzles. "Hot damn," I said and launched myself, rather ungracefully, into it. "You have a _Jacuzzi_ tub!"

Edward, who had disappeared somewhere, laughed lowly. "The perks of being a doctor. Close your eyes."

I put my hands over my eyes as I heard him bustle about the bathroom, turning on the shower and rummaging through a drawer somewhere. I contemplated peaking through my fingers. Well, there was no real reason to keep his unmentionables unmentioned if he was sporting a pencil dick. _And anyway_, I rationalized to myself, _he _did_ seen _me_ naked in the tub last night._ But still, I pulled apart my fingers slowly, not wanting Edward to catch me, even though my logical was pretty flawless. He was bent over slightly, rifling through a drawer under a vanity mirror across from the tub. The now steamy bathroom added a new sheen to his skin and I swallowed, hard.

"Hey!" I said, dropping my hands. "Why am I closing my eyes if you're wearing a towel?"

Not flinching, he said, still bent over the opened drawer, "Well, for one, you were supposed to keep your eyes shut like the adult you are. And two, I don't usually walk around in only a towel in front of people I just met."

"Just met?" I asked, feigning an inflection of hurt in my voice. "You have seen me naked, you know."

He shrugged and I watched the muscles in his back ripple slightly. The shower, to the right of the vanity mirror, was completely made of glass. And not even the rippled glass to guarantee privacy. Just _glass_. It was still clear enough in the bathroom that I could see through the door. It was lined with the same sandy tiles and was large enough to comfortably accommodate three people. There was a small sort of ledge inside the shower just large enough for a person to sit down on. Very welcomed images of Edward and me, doing unseemly things on that ledge as hot water sprayed down on us made my ovaries all excited again.

He straightened himself, one hand holding the white towel around his waist and shot me a reproachful look. "Close your eyes honestly this time." I did, a bit begrudgingly, and waited for the sound of the shower door to shut before I opened them again.

"What's that door for?" I asked, pointing unnecessarily to a brown door next to the sink.

"The brown one? It's where the toilet is."

I contemplated this for a moment. "Why do you have a separate room for the toilet?"

"The door to the bathroom is glass. Don't want anyone watching me go to the bathroom, you know."

"That does, of course, beg the question," I said, picking up one of the unmarked bottles from the edge of the tub, "why did you put a glass door to the bathroom?"

"The windows were too good to stay hidden."

I looked up above the tub, where four, large windows sat perched on the walls. "So, you don't mind someone watching you shower, but you don't want them seeing you take a shit?"

I heard the clink of the glass door opening and Edward stuck his head out to grin at me. "Logic, right?"

"Logic," I scoffed, but grinned back all the same. He took himself back in the shower and I uncorked the little bottle from the edge of the tub and smelled the contents. It smelled nothing like home, where the subtle scents of fish and gunpowder were more prevalent than anything as warm and Christmas-like as whatever was in this little bottle. I turned it on its side and let a little of the liquid fall onto my hand. It wasn't lotion, and when I rubbed my hands together (even after I spat on them, the sound hidden by the shower), it didn't suds up. In fact, it just felt wet and weird and I rubbed it off on my jeans, feeling incredibly stupid.

"So," Edward said, after I realized the shit just would _not_ come off. I thought vaguely of running it through my hair. "Why did you need a new place to stay tonight?"

I knew this was coming. I had sort of prepared for it. But instead of the well-articulated and gorgeous speaking patterns I usually impressed people with, I let loose a streaming consciousness. It was a bit awkward for Edward, I was sure. He was silent, listening to me drabble on and he once stuck his head out of the shower when I started crying, but disappeared again when I waved him away.

"Alice explained a little about him," I said. "About how he's an asshole but only sort of. Like, after you know him better. You told me the same thing. He was never really all that nice. Just, sort of an asshole."

"Huh," Edward said noncommittally.

"Yeah." I hoisted my legs up on the edge of the tub and crossed them at the ankles. "You said he would be my best friend."

Edward didn't say anything for a moment. "Well," he said. "I knew Jasper as a kid. How he acted then. I don't know much about him as a Dom. I'm just going on what Alice told me about how he usually interacts with people."

"When did he start the Dom thing?" I fingered the edge of a crystal ashtray, dirty with a few butts and ash. This . . . weird, burning need to know about Jasper was starting to make me uncomfortable. How, exactly, could a man so arrogant and condescending attract so many women into his life. Sure, he had a rocking body and a penchant for sexy half-smiles, but any intelligent girl with even a shred of self-respect would recognize the . . . demon inside of him and hightail it just as I had.

_Demon? Really? _

I shook my head. Tanya seemed like a nice girl, if not a bit more dimwitted than the usual lot that attended Emmett and Rosalie's parties.

But then there was Alice. She was relatively intelligent. And Edward was definitely smart, and he had tried to date her. Unless Edward had a thing for stupid girls.

"Bella?"

I opened my eyes, which I hadn't realized were closed, and felt a deep blush burn my cheeks. "Whoops, sorry," I said. "Kinda got lost in my own head there for a second. Not my fault, really, it's a pretty good place to be.

Edward chuckled.

"About five years ago," he said. "He went off to college and sort of disappeared from the family for a while. When he reemerged, he was mostly the same guy. Only he had a new life to explain to us."

I brought my fingers to my face, curling them around so I could stare at the nails. They were as short and stubby as they could have been for all the chewing I'd done on them. The nail on the pointer finger of my left hand had been chewed to the quick and it throbbed when I ran my thumb over it. I didn't stop. My throat burned with equal intensity as I fought back the urge to shoot a string of irrelevant questions at Edward about his brother.

"So," I said, as calmly as I could muster. To my surprise, my voice didn't waiver. But it raised a few octaves. "When we were in his house after Tanya and Jasper had taken that phone call, and you had to make that distinction by saying that Jasper was _your_ adopted brother. And when I asked if you were a Whitlock, instead of just answering 'no' you said "_Jasper's_ not a Cullen"?"

Edward didn't say anything for a while, and I wondered absently how long it took someone with such short hair to shower. "I've told you about him."

"Well, yeah," I said, "but I mean – "

"Jasper." He said the name bitterly, like it was poison he was trying to spit from his tongue. "Jasper is not a good guy. I told you that. I wasn't lying."

"Yeah," I said again, "but surely there's a difference between being a bad person and being what nightmares and defense classes are made of." I clucked my tongue. "Arrogant asshole."

Edward sighed, so loudly that I could hear it over the pounding of the shower. "Arrogance is only one of his many . . . facets."

I knew we had reached territory that Edward didn't want to speak on. But the tightening in my throat overrode the discomfort in my stomach, and I had to press him harder. "You know, I'd love to get all Sherlock Holmes up in this, but I kind of need it spelled out."

"Just . . . he'll find someway to get to you. To draw you in. To make you stay. To _fix_ you. I don't know why, but it's what he does. He takes people, subs, like it's some goddamned collection he's spent his entire life trying to covet. It doesn't make sense to me, and I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm not a Dom. He likes the best. He likes _owning_. But not in the materialistic type of way." Edward laughed and the sound was small and bitter. "He has money, and plenty of it. You saw that. But it's his need to collect things that don't rightfully belong to him. That don't rightfully belong to anyone. And he seeks them out and takes them, transforms them, and breaks them down, so they're his, and then lets them go, knowing that they won't ever feel complete again."

I didn't have a single thing to say in response.

"He'll take you, Bella. But you can't let him."

"What? _Me_?" I laughed. "No, no, he's not interested in me."

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

I didn't say anything.

"Can I ask you something, as a doctor?" Edward said in a calm voice a moment later and I knew the subject of Jasper was closed just as succinctly and suddenly as a slammed door.

"Sure," I said. I felt heavy, tired, as though what Edward said had taken a physical toll on my body.

"Your panic attacks, how long have they been happening?"

I groaned, good-naturedly, but the moan sounded forced.

"As a doctor."

"Years, a few years. Since my dad died, I suppose. Though I don't think they're because of him. They're because of an ex-Dom I had. I'm sure of it."

"James." He spoke like he tried to turn it into a question, but his voice dipped at the end and I saw the question mark dissolve in my mind.

"Yeah," I said. "It interferes in my life like you wouldn't believe. I've tried medication, therapy, blah, blah blah. I didn't really want any of it. I just . . . kind of do it myself. I calm myself down. But, fuck, it doesn't work at all. I mean, it does, but throwing up once a day isn't exactly control, is it?"

"No, it's not. Can you hold down a job?" He paused for a second and gave a low chuckle. "I suppose not, though it's not really anything to do with your attacks."

"Brat," I said and then, "Thank you, Edward."

"For what?"

"For letting me come over. For letting me bug the shit out of you with my nothingness. For giving me a place to stay for the night. For being there for me, in your own way. It's been a while since someone has been there for me in this way."

He turned the shower off and I covered my eyes, inexplicably. I had originally intended on letting him walk out of the shower completely uncovered. I heard the wet plopping of his feet as he crossed the sandy tiles to come sit on the edge of the tub.

"You can open your eyes."

I did and looked up at him. His hair looked much longer now that it was wet; it hung, sloppy, on his forehead and the sides of his cheeks, almost like it was painted on. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, the two sides opened on his leg so the thick muscle of his thigh showed. His chest was damp and his long, adroit fingers were damp and his paleness looked, inexplicably, almost paler against the white of the towel.

"You're beautiful," I whispered. He didn't say anything, didn't even change his expression. The only acknowledgment that he had heard me was the slow closing of his eyes. I picked his hand off the side of the tub, noting that his knuckles were white, before bringing it to my cheek. The dampness was calming, even though the warm wet of the shower had turned it cold in the few seconds he had sat there.

"Bella," he said. "Bella – "

I shook my head against his hand. "It's good."

We looked at each other for a long moment. I couldn't read the expression behind his eyes, but they looked infinitely sad, as though he was witnessing the most inhumane, depressing act he'd ever seen. Was it because I was so desolate? So useless?

"Bella," he tried again and this time I let him speak. "Bella, you're . . . you're just . . . it's _good_."

"Good," I echoed, not at all understanding what he was trying to say.

The movements were awkward as he tried to bend over the edge of the tub to kiss me. It was awkward; both of his lips pressed roughly on the flesh between my nose and upper lip. I heard the wet squeaking sound as his damp body rubbed against the edge of the porcelain.

I tried to stand up, but it seemed like the weight of his entire body was only staying erect because his mouth was smashed so ineloquently against mine. I pushed him away bodily until he pulled away, blushing fiercely.

"Take me to the bedroom," I said, looking at him with a small smirk on my face I hadn't put there myself.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I climbed out of the tub and when I was firmly planted on the ground, I threw myself at him. He reacted eagerly, running his thick fingers through my hair, moaning loudly against my mouth. I felt his towel hit my feet as he disentangled himself from it. He hesitantly pushed himself against me and I felt the hard press of his erection against my stomach. It felt _good_. So right and perfect and exactly what I needed. He was beautiful and soft and calm and I felt the substance of my body leave me and wrap itself around him entirely.

He dragged me slowly away from the bathroom, opening the glass door and gripping me tightly as both of our bodies left the warm steam of the bathroom and met with the cool air of his bedroom. I stepped on his foot and slipped a little and he smiled against my mouth before reaching down and picking me up off my feet to carry me bridle-style to his bed. He laid me down and slowly removed my shirt, unbuttoning each large, black button, a look of determination on his angular face. He took my shirt off and just stared at me for a moment, his eyes bright and clouded at the same time.

I sat up and undid the clasp of my bra, pulling it off. He rubbed his erection against my jeans in response and unbuttoned them, pulling both them and my underwear off and tossing it onto the ground by the side of the bed.

"Bella," he said, "you're – "

I pushed a finger against his lips. "Don't."

He looked perplexed but stopped. He bent over me and pushed my legs apart with his knee, slowly lowering himself over me under I felt the head of his erection press against me. I raised my legs and wrapped them tightly around the area above his hips and pulled him towards me. He gave easily and entered me slowly, painfully slowly, making soft moans and grunts of agreement as he moved.

"Fuck," he murmured. "Fuck."

"Yeah," I said, swallowing a tight knot in my throat. "Yes."

It felt good, of course. Good and right and all that. I felt my walls stretch slowly to accommodate him and when he was finally in fully, he unbowed his head to look at me. I was already looking at him; at the tight, pleasurable expression on his face. He relaxed his face and smiled at me.

"You feel good, Bella."

I nodded and cocked my head up in a silent invitation to kiss me. He did and began to move, slowly, and with practiced precision. He brought one hand to my breast and pinched the nipple softly but passionately, drawing a deep, guttural moan from my throat. It was a noise I hadn't known I could make.

Then his motions became more forceful, more frantic as he peaked. I moaned in response and felt that familiar, tight coil of pressure in my lower abdomen. When he came, I didn't. Though he thought I did.

I didn't have a single witty thing to say in response.


	9. Day 4, Part 1: Epiphanies Suck Ass

**Day 4: Part 1**

**Epiphanies Suck Ass**

I woke up from a nightmare.

"Welcome back."

The room was entirely too bright for whatever time of the day it was and I pulled the pillow I was laying on from underneath my head to put it against my face. I could make out bits and pieces of the nightmare, though I felt it slip by as each second passed. After another minute, it had gone entirely. I adjusted my weight, rolling to my side, and was suddenly quite aware of the sheer and utter nakedness of my form.

I threw the pillow off my face with quite a bit of violence and pulled the covers, which were around my shoulders, up to my nose. The motion hurt my stomach, which burned in protest.

_Edward. Naked Edward. Naked Edward and sex. Good sex. Glorious. Yum._

"You talk in your sleep."

I wrenched my eyes opened and stared at the infuriating man sitting in a small, white chair with a cup of coffee and a newspaper in his hands. His curls were so clean they looked almost glossy, like an angelic depiction of what they should have been.

_Where did that Shakespearean crap come from?_

And then I blinked and the image was lost.

"_Jasper_?"

"Good morning, Bella."

"Jasper? What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" I screeched, grabbing the pillow and putting it unnecessarily against my already covered body. "Get out!"

He set the coffee mug down on a small, white table next to the chair and folded the paper into half and then a quarter before placing it on the table. He looked at the folded, bunched paper for a moment before looking at me. And he just _looked_. Not in a creeptastic way or a leering way, but in an interested way that made me feel inconsequential; like looking at a beautiful house you want to own, but it owned by your arch nemesis, so you begrudge its existence. Like looking at a statue that you'd love to see in your own house, but that belongs to The Louver, so you scratch a pen into the side of it, permanently marring its chance to be glorified in its perfection by anyone else.

My heart stopped.

"Edward left early for work and asked me to come over."

"You're a fucking idiot," I said, barking out a little laugh, and trying to hide the nausea in my stomach. His expression didn't change. He did, however, uncross his long legs and splay them out before his body, re-crossing them delicately at the ankles. I looked at his expensive, pointed-toed shoes. "Did he ask you to _watch_ me while I slept?"

"No, I decided that."

"Get the fuck out of here," I said, pointing at the door. "_Now_."

"Alice insisted I stay out of her sight and it is, after all, her home." He shrugged and the gesture was casual, too casual for the circumstance. But it wasn't just a shrug, it looked like the roll of a wave as it moved forward, lifted, and settled back down. He smiled, a soft, innocent smile, but his eyes flashed malevolently.

I closed my eyes. _In, one two. Out one, two. In one, two. Out one, two. _"This is disgustingly inappropriate and unnecessary," I said. "If you want to fucking talk to me, you sick fuck, you leave right now, let me dress, and join me downstairs. Lock yourself in a goddamn bathroom if you have to stay out of her way. Just _leave_."

"Bella – "

I was aware of the hysteria of my voice, but his presence made me nervous. Not the jolty, panicky nervousness when I see a spider crawling across the floor, but the overwhelming nervousness, the tired nervousness, of walking through a haunted house as a little kid.

He locked his jaw and frowned for such a small moment I thought I hadn't seen it before a large grin spread across his face. "If you insist."

"I do."

He stared at me, his eyes a little softer, but his grin slowly turning into a smirk. "You talk in your sleep."

"Leave."

"Complete sentences and all. It's quite fascinating."

"Why are you such a goddamn creep? If you don't leave in a five seconds, I am going to scream for Alice." My stomach was rolling violently and I was a second away from hearing the wet, sickening sound of my heart in my ears.

"Not a creep," he said calmly, "just interested in human behavior."

I waited, incredulously, for him to leave. When he didn't move, I cried, "GET OUT OF HERE!"

"You had sex with Edward."

My mouth dropped open stupidly and I fought for a moment with a blush that threatened to give me away. But I couldn't quite hide it and his smile grew a little as I diverted my eyes.

"Okay," I said, trying to be firm but feeling too self-conscious to put any real gusto behind it. "One, that is none of your business. And two, if you don't leave I swear – "But my stomach rolled with such force that I caved over on myself. "I'm going to throw up," I said, through the disgusting buildup of saliva in my mouth.

Jasper ruffled for a moment before putting something under my mouth, the fabric kissing my lips as he moved. "Here."

I vomited violently, purging whatever remained of last night's sushi into the cloth. Jasper wound his fingers around the strands of my hair, pulling them back off of my head and away from my mouth. His cool fingers brushed the back of my neck and I shuddered.

I looked down at the mess I made. "You gave me my own shirt to throw up in? What the _hell_ am I going to wear now?"

"Alice has clothing."

"Alice is six inches shorter than I am!"

"Edward has clothing," he said, folding my purple shirt up and going into the bathroom. He returned, empty-handed, and sat back down on the edge of the bed. I couldn't move. Mostly because his scent was . . . unnerving. There was his personal musk, of course, which smelled like pure man. Mint, because maybe he'd brushed his teeth. But it was that weird, sweet scent. Like fruit. I inhaled. I was still hunched over, my hands splayed in front of me and holding me up from the covers. I was horribly aware that my entire back was exposed, but I was sure if I moved I would collapse.

"You know," Jasper said after a moment of silence and I shuddered at the sound of his voice. "Tanya, and Alice for that matter, both had a history of panic attacks."

"I don't have panic attacks," I spat, my mouth still thick with saliva. "The sight of you just makes me sick."

"Perhaps," he said, "but I would bet you have been struggling with these episodes for years now. If only because you have not yet learned how to handle them properly. They both exhibit many of the same symptoms you do: tension, nausea – " he paused, "fear. And I assume you, too, have irregular heartbeats and the feeling that you have lost all control."

I felt immeasurably weak. My arms were trembling under the strain of my upper body. "Jasper," I said, desperation making the words sound like a plea, "if you give me five minutes, I will talk to you outside."

"It might be linked to your submissive personality," he continued. "You do not feel as though you are capable of maintaining control over yourself, so it is too easy for you to let someone else control you. It is in your personality.

A weird lethargy was creeping into my body, making my muscles threaten to buckle under the small amount of weight resting on them. _It must be early, _I thought absently.

"Tanya, however," he continued in the same, calm tone, "has many other issues that extend beyond her panic disorder. Her need to wait on people, for instance, stems from other factors."

He leaned into me and I knew what he saw; a blank, paled expression, a mouth opened into a perfect "o" shape. I felt like I was in a trance, bending to some unseen will that was neither Jasper's nor my own. My body registered its nausea, but as I mirrored Jasper's movement and leaned towards him, the feeling dulled and it became no more than an annoying ache put somewhere in the back of my mind.

It was then that I knew exactly what Edward had meant when he'd spoken of Jasper trying to get me.

"You were born to be a sub, Bella," he whispered. "It's in your genetic makeup, in your brain. Without it, you cannot function."

White spots appeared in my vision. I opened my mouth to speak but the lethargy that crawled slowly across my body forced my mouth to just hang open soundlessly.

"You need a Dom in your life, Bella," he whispered. "And lucky for you, I truly know panic disorders and how to remedy them."

I blinked slowly. My body felt achy and wobbly and it took much effort to close my mouth.

"We will talk later, I am sure," he said and before he had even risen from the bed, I had fallen asleep.

I awoke to Edward screaming from the other side of the bedroom door. My eyes felt almost too heavy to open and I prepared myself to turn over and go back to sleep, but when I heard him speak, I shot up in bed and threw the covers off, ignoring the tightness of my stomach as I swung my legs out from under me. I searched frantically on the ground for anything resembling clothing as I listened to Edward shout.

"Absolutely not, Jasper. That was completely inappropriate! If you ever – " He paused for a moment, clearing listening to Jasper speak. When I didn't hear another voice, I understood he was on the phone. "If you ever come near my house again, I swear to _god_ I will have you arrested. You have no idea what damage you – " He paused again and I walked quietly to the door, placing one hand on the knob. Edward laughed hollowly. "No, I suppose you do. But do you understand what I had to say to Alice? She freaked out and almost had a panic attack, _you asshole_. How the fuck did you manage – "

He cut off again as I opened the door. He was pacing the corridor outside of the bedroom, still in his formal attire from work, though his tie was pulled down from his neck, crooked, and his shirtsleeves were un-cuffed and rumpled unceremoniously up past his forearms. He paused in his pacing to look at me.

Without saying anything else into the phone, he shut it and rushed to me, pulling me against his body.

"Jesus, Bella," he said into my hair. My arms lay stiffly at my sides. "Jesus, Alice went out for only a moment. That bastard must have been casing the house. I already called the alarm agency and I'm setting up fucking cameras around the house tomorrow, I swear to god – "

I wrapped my arms around him to get him to stop talking. It worked, and I held him for a moment, reveling in the feeling of his trembling muscles against my chest and face. He felt warm; so warm that my eyes felt heavy again. I could see through the space left under the crook of his arm as it rose just over my line of sight to curl around my shoulders.

Alice sat, huddled on the ground next to the door, her face in an expression of absolute despair. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her hands were wrapped around her neck, her fingers interlaced and tight at her hairline.

"Alice," I said. "Alice."

She was already looking at me, but when she heard her name leave my throat, her eyes seemed to come into focus. She opened her mouth and I untangled myself from Edward's grip to squat down in front of her.

"Bella, I'm so sorry, I didn't – "

I shook my head and gripped her knees. She winced at the pressure but shut her mouth. "Alice, when did you become Jasper's sub?"

Though I couldn't see Edward, I could feel him stiffen next to me. It was like an electrical pulse that had once been quivering and then snapped tight and I could feel the tug of it in the back of my head, heavy and strong.

"What?" she asked. "Why?"

"When did you become Jasper's sub? _Why_ did you? Where did you meet him?"

She didn't understand what I was saying, but she registered the panic in my voice and sighed, heavily, before answering. "I met Rosalie in college. She introduced me to Emmett and the three of us attended a dungeon party hosted by a mutual friend. Emmett and Rosalie were already in the culture and I wanted to try something new."

She spoke softly and her voice was small but steady. Her eyes were serene and determined but in them was something infinitely sad. She paused for a moment and looking silently at me. And then she closed her eyes and a resigned expression fell across her face. "Rosalie talked to me for years about what she did. It made sense to me. So I went to a party and I met . . . Jasper." She spoke the name with detached reverence, as one might speak of their god. "He was with another sub at the time. We met, talked, and then we were we."

"Why did he choose you? Why did he leave his other sub?"

"Bella," Edward said. The pulse quivered lazily. "Bella, don't."

I ignored him and continued to stare at Alice, who now refused to look at me.

"I-I don't know. I don't know why. He just did." She opened her eyes. "Bella, what did he _do_ to you?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but I didn't want to confess. I didn't want the look of disappointment, anger, and contempt to cross her face. The resigned look was so much better than anything resembling pity.

I stood up and turned to Edward.

"Bella," he whispered. He extended his hand to me but when I made no movement towards it, he curled his fingers slowly around the air in front of him.

"I have to go," I said in the same whisper.

"Where are you going?" he asked. We stared at each other for a moment. I fixed as penetrating a gaze as I could at him, trying to give him a knowing look. A look that said "Don't play stupid" as much as it said "I'm sorry for every bit of pain you're about to feel."

But when his brow remained furrowed and his hand remained in the air, clasping nothing, I said, "To Emmett's."

"Emmett's?"

"Yeah." I looked over his shoulder. "I have to go see my dog."

"Will you come back?"

I took a few steps towards him and placed my palm against his cheek. He leaned into it. His eyes were closed now, but the rest of his face looked prepared for a fight.

"Of course," I said and his body sagged in response.

I turned to leave but he wrapped his fingers on my wrist, not painfully, but with enough force to let me know he wasn't finished. I turned to him. "It's good," he said. "Isn't it good? _Isn't it good_? Aren't I good?"

"You're good," I said, "you're good. It's good, everything is good. _I'm_ the one who's not good."

He frowned. "You're good, Bella." When I didn't change my expression, he said, "There's medication, there's behavior therapy, it could work, _it could be fixed_, you don't have to do this."

"I do."

"No," he said, angrily. "No, you don't. You will be ruined. It will ruin you. What will you do when you're honestly not good enough? Where will you go?"

"I'm good enough for that."

He let go of my wrist and pulled at his hair. "You're not. You can't be. _No one_ is good enough for that. For him."

"Then I have to try," I said.

"There is no trying at this, Bella, there is only succeed if you're wanted and fail once enough time has passed. You're too good, Bella, too good for all _that_." He gestured down the stairs, towards the front door. "Don't ruin you. Don't let yourself ruin you."

I pressed my hand against his cheek again and the electric pulse vibrated in slow, painful tugs. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Visit sometime," Alice said as I descended the stairs.

A few moments later and I was in my car, driving. The look on Edward's face kept me chain-smoking. It was a look of deep loathing, deep understanding, and immeasurable sadness. I turned into the driveway and parked my car, sitting inside the rumbling vehicle for a moment, absently aware that the moment I left this car, I would be unable to turn back.

I opened the car door, closed it, and walked to the front porch to ring the bell. I fought the urge to run and head back to Edward's. But the good doctor couldn't fix me and Emmett couldn't fix me and Alice couldn't fix me. But he could.

The electric pulse snapped.

Jasper opened the door and looked down at me. He smiled.

"Well, hello there, Bella."


	10. Day 4, Part 2: A New Method

**Day 4: Part 2**

**A New Method**

Jasper led me to the playroom without a single additional utterance of preamble. I had frozen for a moment once he opened the door, a palpable mixture of dread and longing, two discernibly opposite forces turned physical on my body. I had raised a foot with the intention on stepping forward, but instead found it on the ground behind me. In the same instance, I had reached forward to match my stride's length with my opposite hand. It stayed forward. This moment, half entering his home and half backing towards my car, felt intimate in its depravity.

"Please, Bella," Jasper had said, stepping back from the threshold. "Come in."

I had obeyed and was now standing in his playroom. The playroom looked the same, but also inherently different. As though its original intention had been disfigured and rearranged to fit my presence. Nothing had actually changed about the room; it still had the endlessly high ceiling and dark wood paneling, but still it was altered in some intangible way.

"Please, sit," Jasper said, gesturing to one of the chairs aside the door. I did and he pulled the ottoman from the opposite chair towards me before sitting on top of it. He was holding a legal pad in his hands, flipping idly through the pages

"Bella," he said. "For the purpose of helping you, I need you to listen to me. It is a priority without which I will be unable to do so. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Today, I am going to immerse you in the more disciplined aspects of my learned experiences. I am capable of helping you overcome your condition, as I trust you have already begun to realize."

I hesitated. Edward's pained expression as had I left him, standing outside his bedroom door, was so raw that the words of acquiescence I allowed Jasper felt like they were ripped, word by word, out of my throat. "I trust you."

Jasper smiled and motioned for me to stand. "There are many techniques involved in gaining control over your emotions," he said. "You have your own method. However, your method only prevents full escalation of symptoms. My purpose here is to maintain a constant level of control."

He was so beautiful. Standing erect, his hands out from his body, their fingers pressed together to create a delicate pyramid. His Dom bracelet was wrapped around his wrist, and the soft, pliable leather followed the contours of his arm, like they were as inherently a part of him as the surrounding flesh.

"Is that . . . possible?" I asked. "To never have one again? A panic attack?"

"There are many methods," Jasper said and I nodded at him. To my surprise he wasn't smiling, but an immense look of pure satisfaction threatened to turn his mouth into a smirk. "Counting works as a means to prevent further symptoms. Are you five feet and seven inches tall, Bella?"

I nodded.

"May I measure your legs?"

"Um, sure. I guess."

"Tanya, please measure Bella's legs from inner thigh to foot."

Suddenly, I realized what felt different about the room. It wasn't that it had changed itself, but simply morphed around me, bending to the shape of my body. I was now just as much a part of this room as any of the whips and canes in it. My throat tightened and I put my hands on my stomach.

"Count by twos to twenty, Bella."

I swallowed a mouthful of spit. "T-Two, four, six, eight." The nausea stopped almost immediately and I oriented myself back into the room. "Why does it work so quickly?"

"Where does your panic begin?" he asked.

"In my stomach."

He shook his head. "What part of your body recognizes panic first?"

"My brain, I guess."

"Correct." He put a finger to the side of his head. "And there begins the problem. I guarantee the last thing you want to do is to stay in your head, to remove yourself from your surroundings. When you do that, you begin to focus too much on where the panic originates. If you allow yourself to experience the outside world during an episode, you gain your bearings better. Otherwise, you're too task-oriented."

Tanya knelt down in front of me, holding a flexible measuring tape between her hands. One of her hands touched my upper thigh and I blushed at the contact.

"Tanya is doing her job," Jasper said.

Tanya pulled herself up from the floor and went to the legal pad, taking the pen clasped to its side and writing on it. She handed the pad to Jasper and he walked towards the bench, reading it.

"No, Jasper," I said, shaking my head. "No, I'm not going to do that."

"Trust, Bella," he said, bending down towards the knee rests. "And count."

I swallowed with some difficulty and tried to control my breathing as panic set in. "Two, four, six . . ." Even with the muted churning of my stomach, still I watched him as he reached behind the knee rest and loosened a screw. He raised the knee rest, looking silently at the legal pad, before clinking it into place a few inches higher than it had been.

". . . sixteen, eighteen, twenty." My throat tightened.

He turned to me, still squatting in front of the bench. "Press your hand to your chest."

I did, and he slowly counted, one digit by one digit, until the beat of my heart began to slow. I brought my hand back down to my side at 'ten' and he stopped counting. He stood up and turned to me.

"Bella, have you ever heard of systematic desensitization?" he asked. I stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher his expression. One of his eyebrows was raised expectantly, awaiting my answer. But his face still remained neutral; no acknowledgement that it was me, Bella, standing in front of him, opposed to any stranger that would happen to find us here.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He raised his other eyebrow in an expression of surprise. I felt my lips twitch in a self-satisfied smile. But then both of his eyebrows came back down and a large smirk followed.

I gritted my teeth together.

"Bella, please let me repeat my question," he said. "Have you ever heard of systematic desensitization?

I frowned. "No."

"It's the process of placing yourself into a phobia-inducing scenario. The purpose is to desensitize you to the experience so you are eventually able to be in similar situations without an episode."

"So," I said slowly. "You're going to force me to panic?"

"Yes," he said. "Systematic desensitization seems counterintuitive, but it works."

Yeah," I said. "I think I heard about this in one of my psychology classes."

"You probably did. Though my method is not exactly how textbooks define it, the essential similarities are enough that I allow myself to use the term to fit my particular need."

He smiled widely, his mouth stretched. My legs jellied underneath me, and I spread my hands out in front of me to maintain my balance. He took a step towards me.

"Bella, I will be whipping you."

My arms felt suddenly heavy, as though blocks of stones were tied to my wrists, and they fell, fast and hard, smacking the sides of my thighs as they landed. "O-One, four, six," I started but shook my head. "T-Two, four six." I took a deep breath. "No, you won't. That's not why I'm here."

"Then why, pray tell, _are_ you here?"

I wanted to laugh at him and call him an idiot and say "why the fuck do you think I'm here?" To help me overcome my panic; to assist me in taking control of my body; to fix me; to help me get me back.

But Edward had spoke truths: there was medication, behavior therapy. So the truth was that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing here.

And that was the most dangerous reason of all.

I blinked, slowly, and turned my head towards the door. "I have to leave," I said, so softly that I wasn't sure I had spoken until Jasper gave a quiet chuckle.

I was pulled back to when Jasper was leaning over Edward's bed with a self-satisfied smirk and his heady perfume of fruit and something sweeter, something more sinister. Something that made me both want to cave into his body and run, terrified, away from it.

"You were born a sub, Bella," Jasper said. "Without it, you cannot function."

I groaned.

"If there is something you'd like to say, Bella, please speak. You are not my sub and I am certainly not holding you hostage here. You are free to leave, whenever you would like. I will not keep you here if you do not wish to be here."

The terne handle, which was bolted into the door by small, almost indistinguishable screws, was peppered with four small, perfectly even fingerprints. By instinct, I supposed, or perhaps by sheer force of will, I knew them to be Tanya's fingerprints.

"Without trust, you will forever be dictated by your episodes. I will not remind you of this again. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Does the idea of whipping not appeal to you?"

"No, yes, I don't know," I said. I looked over at the bench. The cherry leather reminded me simultaneously of Rosalie's burlesque outfit, Jasper's dining chairs, and James's maniacal, open-mouthed laughter as he folded a whip in half and smacked the two ends together, creating a sharp cracking sound, similar to one a belt made in the same sort of gesture.

"Perhaps we will work up to the bench," Jasper said with no particular inflection to his voice. He went to the far end of the room and stopped in front of the paddles, running his fingers loosely over the edges of them. I followed his movements, lithe and quick, but with a sort of determined calm; a forced self-restraint.

The paddles were endless. They ranged in size from ones as big as my fucking head to smaller, miniature ones. They were wood, leather, metal, rubber, and cloth, some with holes and some without them. They stood upside down, hanging from individual pegs by circles of string. Jasper stopped in front of a collection of smaller, thinner paddles made out of a rubbery material. He ran his long fingers delicately over one of them before taking it from the peg and holding it in his hand.

He walked back towards me and I was just too fucking paralyzed to move. My chest felt tight and my lips felt dry and my stomach churned uncomfortably, but it was all muted, all drummed down until it was only an annoying ache in the back of my head, suppressed and reduced into a faint buzzing somewhere in my subconscious.

I licked my lips.

Jasper walked slowly towards me, one hand holding the handle of the paddle, the other end laying flat on his palm. He looked at me for a moment, narrowing his eyes.

"Tanya," he said.

"Yes, Master?"

"Please retrieve the video equipment."

"W-What?" I said, spit dribbling down my chin. "Jas – " I bent at the waist as a wave of nausea ripped through my stomach. "Jas – " I snapped my mouth shut, tasting the onset of bile on the back of my tongue. "No, no, no . . ."

I gagged and made a retching sound, feeling my stomach contract as it tried to force its contents upward.

And then I felt it.

I hadn't felt my shirt rise or his cold hand touch me, but I felt the loud snap of the paddle as it hit my lower back. I gasped and lost my balance, though the pain wasn't more than a brief, passing moment of discomfort. But still I fell forward and landed, hard, on both my knees and palms.

I choked out an angry sob. The muscles in my arms trembled violently and another roll of nausea forced bile into the back of my throat. But it was lesser. A smaller, less intense version of its previous torrent.

But still, it was there.

"Again," I whispered, spitting indelicately onto the polished wooden floor of Jasper's playroom. "Green."


	11. Day 4, Part 3: Jasper's 'O' Face

**Day 4: Part 3**

**Jasper's O-Face**

I slept for hours.

Jasper had picked me up from the floor of the playroom and had carried me to the bedroom I had occupied the last time I had stayed there. It was still the same room, but there was a new level of homeliness to it; varied decorations that hadn't been there previously; a series of different candles, some scented lotion by a brand I didn't recognize, and an entire closet full of clothes.

Jasper laid me down on the bed.

When I awoke, he was sitting on the edge of my bed with a China teacup in one hand and its saucer in the other. There was an odd, intricate pattern on the white glass, almost like a vine surrounded by flowers, but more abstract. The cup and the saucer were small and delicate and I felt an urge to rip it from his steady fingers and smash it on the ground.

Because nothing so fragile and inherently beautiful should ever be held like that.

He looked at the fragmented glass on the ground. I looked at his face. His hands were stilled poised as though he was holding the items and hadn't resisted me grabbing it. The coffee inside it burned my hands and forearms and I blinked my eyes quickly to clear them of tears so I could watch his face.

He got up from the bed without looking at me and walked towards the door.

"Clean it up," he said. "Then read the contents of the folder before you join Tanya and I for dinner. They are on the armoire."

He shut the door behind him and I threw a pillow at it in a very petulant sort of way. The green folder was lying on top of the dresser by the bathroom door so I plodded over to it and, after a moment of fraught indecision, decided to settle myself right there on the floor. There were three sheets of paper inside the folder, broken into two categories: a list of House Rules, and a consent form. Both were written on thick, off-white parchment with a disgustingly tidy scrawl I assumed, without reason, to be Jasper's.

_Consent Form_

_I, Bella Swan, swear to uphold the House Rules without fail. If I renege, I must immediately consult Jasper Whitlock for further instruction._

Underneath, was a place for me to sign and date. I actually rolled my eyes before tossing it with haphazardly across the room, unsurprised – and slightly annoyed – to see it landing the shattered remnants of Jasper's morning coffee. After a moment of contemplation, in which I tried to push down my all-encompassing laziness, I watched the edges of the parchment turn dark and drop under the weight of the liquid.

_Clearly, you're distraught._

I pulled out the House Rules.

_House Rules_

_There is to be no drugs, no smoking, and no gratuitous use of profanity within the house. Alcohol use must be kept to a minimum. Smoking may be done outside and cigarettes must be disposed of in the proper manner._

_Occupants will have free roam of the house. All areas of the house are permissible, expect the playroom, which will be locked when not in use. If entering a private bedroom or bathing area, please ask permission. Tanya is the only exception, unless otherwise stated._

_Guests are not permitted unless permission is given. No exceptions._

_All food, clothing, and toiletries are for your use. No permission is necessary. The only exceptions are Tanya's and my clothing, which are off-limits. Tanya has purchased clothing items for you. They are only to be used by Tanya with your permission._

_Tanya is most comfortable when she is assisting guests and house members on a constant basis. Refer to Tanya whenever a need arises. Examples include showering, food preparation, and laundry._

_I expect the playroom and the specific relationship Tanya and I have to remain secret to anyone unaware. It may only be discussed within the house._

_Because you are not my sub, you are free to come and go as you please. However, I ask that you inform either Tanya or myself on location and timeframe, in order to guarantee your safety._

I grinned.

This was glorious.

Dinner was as awkward and embarrassing as I had expected. Instead of his usual aloofness and careful disregard of anyone else's presence, he had reverted back to that . . . _looking_ thing he often did. I imagined myself as a house and a statue again, and watched his eyes looking at my face; the way his expression didn't change when I licked my lips or dribbled pumpkin soup down my chin. It was unnerving and _seriously_ pissing me off.

The inner sleeve of the table had been replaced sometime between when I had come over for dinner a few nights ago and this awkward staring contest Jasper was currently attempting to embroil me in. The table now sat six with Jasper at one end, me at the other, and Tanya in the middle. She had scooted her black, leather dining chair over towards Jasper until her knife and his fork overlapped on the table. A single cloth napkin rested under both. I crinkled my nose.

At first, I had tried to match his stare second for second. I had even twitched my eyebrow up in a suggestive manner and slowly licked my lips. He just blinked, once, and kept right on staring. Eventually, anger turned into embarrassment and I had conceded defeat with a sigh.

"Master," Tanya said, tentatively, after a few minutes of watching Jasper sit stiff with a fork in his hand. "Don't you like the food?"

He didn't look at her. "The food is wonderful, Tanya, as always."

She pursed her lips in a strange way and glanced many times between his face, which was directed awkwardly in my direction, and his plate. Then she looked down at hers.

After a few more moments, I narrowed my eyes at him and dropped my fork loudly on my plate. I let the ringing of the plate subside before I spoke. "Is this a pissing contest or something? Some childish 'I bet she'll blink first before I do' thing?"

"Pardon?" he asked, not a single muscle, aside from whatever the fuck controlled his mouth, letting me know how he felt about my outburst.

"Is there something you want to say to me?"

"Nothing of any importance," he said.

"Then would you stop _staring_ at me? It's making it kind of hard to eat this delicious dinner in front of me and I see that you are so busy looking at my face that you haven't eaten anything either. It's weird, so knock it off."

Jasper pulled his lips over his teeth, turning the corners of his mouth upward. "How perfectly classy of you, Bella. You must not have read the House Rules as I had requested."

"House Rul – "

"'_Gratuitous use of swearing,'"_ Jasper said calmly and, for the first time, scooping up some of the random rice concoction on his plate. He put it in his mouth and chewed, still looking at me.

"One use of _fucking_ and it's _gratuitous_?" I snapped.

"_Pissing_ is not acceptable, either," he scooped up another piece of food. "It appears I will have to create a list of words that are impermissible."

"Then what the hell is the point of _gratuitous_ if you're not going to let me say what ever the _fuck_ I want?"

That seemed to have broken him. He dropped his fork, hard, onto his plate, causing both Tanya and I to jump. "You may be excused, Bella."

"I don't _want_ to be excused. I _want_ to be able to eat my food without any awkward staring contests from you, Jasper."

"Forgive me," Jasper said, "I seemed to have forgotten you only respond to plebeian bluntness – "

"Plebeian," I exhaled, suddenly tired. "Seriously?"

"Please leave the table, Bella."

"Fine," I said curtly. "Where would you like me to go, since I seem to be at your command?"

For some reason, Tanya flushed red. Jasper sighed. There was a patient condescension in the heave of his chest.

"Where ever you wish, Bella."

I cast a hopefully withering look in his general direction and stomped back up the stairs, making as much noise as I possible could both on the second floor and the third before shutting the heavy wooden door of my bedroom behind me with as much force as I could managed.

_Well done, Bella. Now that you've officially gotten yourself kicked out of the house, what are your plans, exactly?_

I sat down in the middle of the sprawling, four-poster bed, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

First, I decided to take a shower. However, once I saw the packet of lavender bath beads on the corner of the tub, and after upending the box on the floor and stomping on them, I left. Then, I decided to look at my closet.

It was a walk-in closet with a mirror on the far end and an absurdly large number of random clothing items, organized first by season and then color. The items all had the tags still affixed to them and I found amusement in flipping each over and staring at the prices. A shirt work 50 dollars. A sweater worth 95. A purse worth 300. And a pair of shoes, so tall and made of such a starchy, tweed material I swore I'd burn them before I ever wore them, worth 500.

I almost laughed. There were thousands of dollars worth of clothing in here . . . purchased solely for me. I sat down in the middle of the room as a wave of something resembling guilt pulled at my chest. For all the asinine bullshit and careless disregard and downright violation of my rights as a person, Jasper expected me to be here. Wanted me here. I reached over and upturned a tag on a dark pair of slacks. Size six.

Fuck.

I collected myself from the floor and began pacing the narrow room. I had two options: one, I could sit up here, stay pissed like an insolent child, and ignore Jasper until he beckoned me to the playroom or kicked me out of the house. Or two, I could suck it up, apologize to Jasper for not following the House Rules, like I had promised, and tell him that I needed time to alter the way I usually conducted myself, and, further, that I was not another one of his subs and refused to be treated as any less than a guest in their home.

Option one got me out of here. Option two could fix me. And make me more of an adult.

With a defeated huff, I began walking down to the first floor. When I reached the third floor landing, I heard muffled noises coming from the long corridor that made up the entirety of the second floor. I walked quietly, using the few moments I had to collect myself into some good use, until I reached a partially opened door by the stairs.

The muffled noises were coming from inside, so I knocked once. The knock was so quiet I wasn't sure I had actually done it until the door opened slightly. I rolled my eyes and took a deep, dramatic breath, before trying again. Again, nothing, so, as discretely as I could, I peeked my head inside the door, hoping not to catch either Jasper or Tanya in a compromising position.

But in a compromising position they were.

Tanya was bent over the edge of the bed, her head pressed to the sheets and rolled to the side. Her arms were stretched out in front of her, the comforter wound tightly in her little fists, and her bare ass in the air. Jasper was standing on the ground before the bed, his hands gripping her hips and his head thrown back in pure exaltation. The muffled noise, I realized, were not from the two of them, who were both weirdly silent, but from the sound of the headboard as it bumped, repeatedly, against the wall. Both of them were facing me. Jasper's body was a masterpiece; a thin sheen of sweat had broken out across his neck and torso, turning his usually white skin a ruddy, peaked color. His arms, bulging and flexing as he gripped Tanya and moved, looked compact and defined.

I had seen Jasper shirtless before, when he had whipped Tanya after the first time I'd spent the night in the house, but it was a more practiced, demonstrative nakedness. Not like the careless, concentrated nakedness I saw here. He raised one leg and placed his foot on the bed, next to Tanya's thigh for, I was assuming, more leverage.

The gesture made him open his eyes to watch his footing, and his gaze caught me, standing there by the door, half of my body in the room and half out, with a look I'm sure involved glassy eyes and an open mouth.

I locked eyes with him, too afraid and too embarrassed to make a run for it. But he didn't stop moving, only continued to thrust, looking at me. There was no hint of embarrassment, no fumbling for clothing, no warning for Tanya, not even the expected "get the fuck out!" Only looking.

After a few thrusts he closed his eyes and stayed motionless. Then he opened his eyes and rocked slowly against Tanya, who was now breathing heavily. He ran his right hand across her ass, feeling the smoothness and sweat there, before kissing the fleshiest part of it.

With his lips still pressed against her, he looked at me again.

And smirked.

I ran.


	12. Day 4, Part 4: That Feeling

_A/N: This is a very personal chapter for me. And my absolute favorite. Be kind with it :) And thank you for all the kind reviews. Every time my phone dings and I see it's a review, I get a shit-eating grin on my face. Shit. Eating. There's no grin that tops that._

**Day 4: Part 4**

**That Feeling**

I ran to Edward's, chain-smoking the whole way.

Alice answered the door, and when she saw me, promptly shut it again.

I collapsed on the porch, folded my arms around my knees, and waited.

In my mad rush to get out of Jasper's, I had remembered to grab my coat, which had been perched on the steel standing coat rack in his foyer. I had hesitated before I brought it down to me; Jasper and Tanya had an absolute plethora of jackets, coats, and raingear, all hung with delicate precision on the various branches of the rack. Many were hung on top of one another, but my coat was standing alone, hung separately and with the one branch on either side of it empty. As I'd reached up to take it, down I caught the strong smell of stale cigarettes that always clung to it.

I was embarrassed to take it, embarrassed to admit that this thick piece of cheap fabric, purposefully separated from all the fine, lavish materials that Jasper and Tanya's coats were made of, was mine. It was dirty and when I moved in just the right way, I could smell the cigarette smoke. This coat, an apt representation of who I was, was not good enough to mingle with the elitist and pretentious leather and tweed of what was Jasper's.

I was still wearing those fucking jeans I had worn to Jasper's for dinner a few nights ago, and they felt stiff and awkward when I pulled my legs to my chest. I rubbed my chin on the knees of the jeans, mostly out of habit, and was not met with the calm, scratching sensation I got when I wore my better jeans. No, not _better_ jeans. My _favorite_ jeans, the ones that were ripped on the inside of the back pocket and which had thinned considerably over the knees after too many wears.

I began to shiver. Edward had those automatic porch lights that Emmett and Rosalie still refused to put up outside their home, and when they shut off after a few minutes of no motion from me or anything else, I waved my hand frantically in an attempt to get them to turn on. So Alice knew I was here. So she knew I was _still_ here.

I could be patient; bide my time until she or Edward opened the goddamn door again. I pegged her for a sentimental type. Someone who turned to complete and utter mush when watching one of those manipulative commercials about animal abuse. Or someone who fed those kids in Africa. Or someone who couldn't bear to see someone she might have once considered a friend, fucking sitting down on a snowy porch in the middle of _goddamn winter_.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there, curled around myself and shivering. I know I had eaten dinner around 7:00, but beyond that. . . .

I rested my head on my knees and thought about the way Jasper looked while pounding into Tanya. He didn't look different than he usually did in any tangible way; nothing about his face or his body suggested he wasn't the cool, collected, assoholic he always had been. But there was something about the way his head was thrown back and the way that he continued to fuck her long after he knew I was there.

Or maybe not.

The crunching of packed snow under tires snapped me from my reverie. I turned my head over my knees so I could see the approaching car, already well aware of whom it was. It was too dark for me to distinguish the color or make of the car, but the way it came screeching to a halt, turned off, and the sound of the front door being heaved open, I knew who was inside.

Edward.

"Bella." My name wasn't so much of a word, but an exhale. I knew that sound. It was the same sound I made whenever I stepped into the warm water of my sub-zero apartment, or the sound of the first sizzle of a cigarette after not smoking all day. It was relief, longing, desperation come to pass, and just . . . good. A good sound.

I didn't respond, just let him approach me. He did, but it was slower than I'd expected. Like he wasn't sure whether I was a cruel apparition or what I actually was: a pathetic 23-year-old, wearing nothing but a coat, jeans, and hooker books, huddling in a freezing mass on the front porch of his magnificent home.

The sound of his boots crunching the snow underneath them was welcoming. It let me know I wasn't the only thing here, wasn't the only one moving and breathing and _existing_ here.

When he came to the cement steps of his porch, all of the automatic lights turned on and pointed themselves directly at him.

"Bella," he said, this time with more inflection. He closed the distance between us in one long stride and squatted down in front of me. "Jesus Christ," he whispered. "I didn't know if I'd ever – I wasn't sure – fuck, I don't know."

I raised my head until my chin was against my knees.

"Ed – " I started, and was surprised as hell that the last part of his name came out as a choked sob. He cupped the side of my face and I leaned into his hand. He was wearing leather driving gloves and I almost laughed out loud. This was an archaic man, designed with a soft face and a head of fire, brought, screaming to life, in the future to make sure that I was taken care of as well as any singular woman in history had ever been.

I looked at him. His eyebrows were furrowed together. I uncurled a stiff arm from around my legs and pressed my index finger to the skin that was pushed together between his eyebrows, trying to rid his face of the wrinkle.

"Edward," I whispered, afraid that any loud noise would ruin the still silence of the porch, "can I take a shower with you?"

His face relaxed and the right side of his mouth curled upward in a smile. I pressed my finger to it, pulling it a little higher, until both sides of his mouth were equal.

"Yeah, Bella," he said. He stood up and then bent down again, holding out a hand for me. I took it and he pulled me up with little effort, until I was flush against his body.

Then I attacked him.

It was a desperate kiss, needy and pathetic and I flushed. But he didn't seem to care.

He ran his tongue gently across the frozen bump of my bottom lip and I opened my mouth for him, letting his tongue move slowly over mine. I let it taste the back of mine, over my teeth, and let it press into the roof of my mouth. I didn't move mine in response, I just let him explore.

I let him take me, use me, do whatever he wanted with me, because it was only with him that I felt _me_.

At Emmett's, I tainted the air. At Jasper's, I felt every single movement of my head or every breath that escaped me was being judged, broken down, and morphed into something sinister and sub-human.

But with Edward, I could just be.

He laughed at my inappropriate, snide remarks and didn't flinch when I cursed or burped. He grinned; always grinning at me. Always waiting for me to do or say something else. Careful of me, protective of me. He was angry the second time I met him, sitting with him at Jasper's dinner table, because he knew something I didn't. He was angry that I wasn't on any medication for my panic episodes, angry that I was in Jasper's home. Jasper, who knew panic attacks and how to fix them.

Edward hadn't wanted me there. Wanted me to leave, so I didn't get sucked into the fucked up world that was Jasper Whitlock's subs.

Edward pulled away and I flushed again, angry that Jasper had crept into my head as I was kissing him.

"Come on," he said, taking me by the hand. We walked past his car and down the side of his driveway until he reached the garage. He pressed the garage code on the small receiver and held me, pressed his entire body to me, as we waited for it to open.

We stepped inside the garage, Edward's arm wound tightly around my shoulders, but he paused. I followed his line of sight and saw he was staring, with narrowed eyes, at the yellow Porsche. With a new fervor, he pulled me quickly inside the house.

The screen door had barely shut behind him before he barreled through the kitchen. His wet shoes made angry footprints on the ground as he walked towards the living room.

"Alice," he called, almost yelled, as he went into the living room. "Alice."

I heard footsteps come from upstairs and craned my head to look at the ceiling. I fought the urge to run.

"Yes, my dear Edward?" Alice called and her high voice echoed as she made her way down the stairs. She was hidden behind the wall that connected the stairway to the living room, so I couldn't see her. But I heard the light flitting of her footsteps stop. In a deeper voice, she asked, "What's wrong?"

Edward pointed his hand at me and Alice came around the corner, her arms crossed defensively across her chest. I wasn't angry with Alice. Self-preservation was a tricky bitch, and I understood, so completely, why she hadn't allowed me inside.

She couldn't lose me again.

"Bella," she said in a small voice. "Bella, I-I don't – "

I held up my hand. "I get it."

She closed her mouth and frowned, but nodded. She turned to Edward. "Fuck you," she spat, before turning lightly towards the stairs and leaving the room.

Edward gestured wildly after her. "She left you out in the fucking snow. You're not going to say anything to her?"

"If only she'd use her powers for good instead of evil." I said in a tone of mock-solemnity. I looked at him. "You don't need to protect my honor, you know," I said, sticking my arms under my armpits. I was fucking _cold_.

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, looking over towards the stairs where Alice had gone.

"She'll forgive you," I said. "But, and as much as I'd love to watch you just stand there and pout, I'm _freezing_."

"Oh, Jesus," he said. "Fuck, I'm sorry. Come. Come upstairs."

So he took me to his bathroom and turned the shower on.

And we stood, huddling in the middle of the sand-colored tiles and four white windows, and stupid, fucking brown door that hid the toilet, with my arms pressed into my chest and his long arms thrown around mine. And I cried. When we were tired of standing, we sat on the edge of tub. Then, we sat in the tub, my back against his chest and his cheek resting on the crown of my head.

"I'm sorry," I said. I pressed my head into his chest and raised my chin. When I raised mine, he too raised his and was now looking out the windows. "Hey," I said. He had his arms wrapped around my body, and I squeezed one with my hand.

"Hey," he said softly. He turned to look down at me. "Hey."

"You look like you're about to vomit," I said, smiling a little. "What's up?"

"Tell me what happened."

I did. He closed his eyes when I told him about the paddle and, if I wasn't mistaken, actually fucking growled when I told him about Jasper being an ass to me at dinner.

I left out the part where Jasper smirked at me after having come inside Tanya. The memory, of his lips pressed gently against her ass, made me want to simultaneously roll over on my back to expose my belly to that man and pee in revenge all over his playroom.

"I don't know what the fuck I was thinking."

He pressed his lips to my crown, without kissing, it and sighed. "You're not the first, Bella. And you certainly won't be the last."

"I thought I was good enough."

"Jesus," Edward said, his chest rumbling. "It's not about you, it's about Jasper. About his, his _penchant_ for all that is forsaken. His obsession with collecting these girls that think they need his help." He squeezed me. "Bella, La Bella, you don't need his help. You can do this on your own. There's someone at the hospital that I think can help. It's my father, he – "

"Stop."

I said it quietly, but with enough force to let him know I was done. Done talking about, done hearing it, done remembering, rehashing, revisiting.

He sighed. "Okay." He shifted under me. "Um, Emmett called, by the way. Wants to know how you're doing. Said you're ignoring his phone calls and all."

"I don't want to talk about that either."

When we were done in the bathroom, he took me to his bed. I made a motion to take off my shirt, but he pulled my hands down and unrolled the bottom of my shirt, before pulling me under the covers with him. He lay on his back and I threw one of my arms across his chest. I rested my head in that little nook between his chest and arm, right at about the pit area, and curled up next to him.

"You okay?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah."

And I was. Sure, I felt gross. I hadn't showered in two days and I was afraid to move too much, lest Edward get a whiff of my hair. But he continued to touch my dirty, greasy strands and it felt too damn good for me to muster up the proper amount of embarrassment to tell him to stop. Because I liked it. I liked him touching me.

I could feel his heart accelerate under my arm.

"This is good, isn't it?" he said.

"Hmm?"

"This," he said. He rested his palm against my head. "Being here. Here with you."

"It _is_ good."

From my position, I could see him picking at the edge of his shirt, his fingers running over the fabric. Back and forth, in a slow motion.

"Spit it out, Edward."

His fingers stopped. "Spit what?"

"Whatever it is you want to say. I can feel your heart freaking out in your chest. Just say it."

"I don't have anything to say."

"What - Jesus." I rolled my eyes. "Do I have to go all Chinese Water Torture up in here. Seriously, _out_ with it."

"La Bella – "

"Say it."

He took a deep, world-weary sigh. "It's stupid work stuff."

I move my head to look up at him. He had the same closed, concentrated look he had in the bathroom while looking out the windows, after hearing me talk about that shit Jasper did. That protective look . . . that look of anger. As though he was hearing these things said to him by his first-born. By his child. Someone dear to him.

My heart began to beat faster. "Bullshit."

"What – Bella, come on. It's seriously work stuff."

"You're upset with something," I said, noting his reaction again. "You have that angry look on your face."

He grinned, but his eyebrows remained pulled together. His eyes still closed. "That _angry_ look? What do I have to be angry about?" Then his smile faded and he flushed, the tops of his cheeks turning pink. "I mean, besides the face that Jasper is a raging asshole."

"You didn't mean to say that."

"Say what?"

"The last part. You weren't feeling angry."

"What are you talking about – "

"Shut up," I said and he finally opened his eyes, looking down at me. "I know you're upset about Jasper, but you smiled at what I said. What the fuck?"

"You're mad because I smiled at something you said?" His eyes were practically dancing with amusement, but the rest of his face was still. His lips were indifferent, his eyebrows had un-creased.

"Why are you all serious now?"

He groaned. "La Bella, _you_ spit it out."

And then it sort of hit me. Like a goddamn bomb. His eyes were still amused, glinting happily by what I had said. But he was still sad. There was some sort of depressed sadness in his eyes. I fought the urge to smack him. What the fuck did he have to be sad about?

"Oh, fuck, Edward. You're not _pitying_ me, are you?"

"What? No."

I believed him.

"Then what – " I said, and then I gasped.

He furrowed his brows at me again.

"Oh, no," I said, scrambling to get out from under the covers, "no, no, no."

"No – what? Bella, what are you doing?" He raised his arms, allowing me space to move about, trying to get away from him. "What the fuck?"

"You," I said and my voice was accusatory. "You."

"Me? Me what?" he groaned. "Bella, what are you doing? Stop flailing."

"I have to leave," I mumbled, doing nothing short of hurdling myself off the bed. He had given me a pair of his pajama pants and a loose 'University of Washington' shirt and I contemplated just striping naked in his room but . . . not after _that_.

"Leave?"

"Yeah," I said, fumbling my way into the bathroom, where I knew my hair tie was. "Leave."

"Don't _leave,_" he said.

"I-I'm sorry." I threw my hair up into a disheveled bun and when I left the bathroom, he was propped up against the bedroom door.

"Why are you leaving? What _happened _there?"

I tried to push him out of the doorframe, but he resisted my shrug.

"Let me go, Edward."

"Not until you tell me what the fuck just happened."

I laughed. "You're not my _Dom_, Edward. Don't try that shit."

He winced as the title left my mouth. We stared at each other for a moment and a distinct bubbling of panic began in my stomach. I pressed my hands against my stomach and closed my eyes. This was brilliant. This whole escape-as-fast-as-you-can routine hadn't worked well for me in Jasper's playroom and surely as hell wasn't working out for me here.

"Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen." I stopped as the nausea subsided. I looked up at him and took a deep breath. He had that sad face again.

"What was that?" he asked quietly. "That's not how . . . how you do . . ." He trailed off.

"Don't be jealous, Edward."

"What?" He gripped the top strands of his hair, pulling them upward. "You're not making any fucking sense. _Spit it out, Bella_."

We stared at each other for another moment.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You love me."

"_What_?" he cried, pulling harder on the strands of his hair he now had balled in each fist. "I don't even know you!"

"You fucked me."

"Doesn't mean I know you. Ever heard of a one-night stand?"

"Don't be an asshole, Edward."

"Look – okay, I'm sorry. I just – I don't love you. Not that you're not phenomenal or anything, 'cause you are and your self-centered ass knows it, but I've only known you for a few days."

"Fine," I said. "Then you're falling for me. Or you really, really, _really_ like me. It's written all over your goddamn face."

He let go of his hair and his hands dropped to his sides. He narrowed his eyes. "That's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"

"You didn't deny it."

"I've only know you a few days, Bella," he said, drawing the sentence out, making what he said sound self-evident.

"Deny it," I said.

"You're being stupid."

We both stared at each other again. His face was red in a mix of defiance and anger. My chest was heaving with the simultaneous efforts of not kicking him in the balls and reaching up to kiss him.

I chose the latter.

"Kiss me," I said.

"What?"

"Kiss. Me."

He hesitated. "Okay," he whispered, and he did.

His arms felt good wrapped around my body. He cocooned me. He had one of his hands, palm open, on the small of my back and another pressed against the back of my head, drawing me to him. He kissed hard and fast, not allowing me to move, not giving me any option but to stay with him, pressed flush against his body.

I moaned into his mouth and he gave a frustrated groan in response. His hand snaked up the back of my shirt and he gripped the flesh there, pulling me even tighter against him.

"Jesus, Bella," he said into my mouth and I almost smiled in return, loving the way my name was more of a strangled choke than anything else.

"Take me to your bed," I said.

He walked forward, pushing into me until I was forced to step backwards. Step for step, we moved until the backs of my knees hit the mattress and I fell backwards. He climbed on top of me and lifted my shirt up, balling the fabric until it rested underneath my bra. He kissed the bare skin of my stomach, the edges of my hips, my neck, my ears.

He raised his head and looked down at me. "Is this what you want?"

"I want _you_."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed so I was lying on top of it. He pulled my shirt off and unclasped my bra, swallowing as my chest was exposed to him. He kissed the crook of my neck and let his fingers trail down my chest and between my breasts, not touching them, but touching the soft crevice of skin between them.

I groped the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed it to the floor.

"Bella," he said. "I have more to give."

I closed my eyes. "Then give it."

This time, his kisses were more controlled. Now that he had me, exposed and unmoving underneath him, he took his time. He griped my left shoulder and kissed it, alternating between licks and hot breath until the skin pimpled under his mouth.

My pants came next, and then my underwear. My hands found purchase in his hair and I wound my fingers between his strands, pulling on it until he groaned.

When his hand found my breast, I felt it; that electric pulse that had snapped when I ran back to Jasper's. I felt it. My body seemed to absolutely vibrate and I smiled in response.

Because it was right. It felt right. And good. So good . . ..

"Oh god, Edward," I moaned, pushing myself up to him, to his nakedness, to let him know that I _felt_ it.

"La Bella," he whispered, taking a nipple into his mouth and wrapping his arm underneath my back so I arched up to him. "Fuck, you feel good."

And then I let my body take me over. I didn't think about Edward or of Jasper or of this complex bullshit that was making the electric pulse thrum in the back of my head. All I thought of was this delicate thing that I was creating here. I let myself feel; feel the hands trailing soft, tender patterns across my body, feel the burning need of desperation, feel the heat and wetness between my thighs, and oh, God and just _feel_.

I felt the body above me moan and grunt and pull and give, and I gave my body over to it. I sobbed out a choked noise of agreement and threw the back of my hand over my eyes, shielding myself from whatever the fuck this _thing_ was that I was feeling.

"Bella."

The feeling stopped. I raised my hand off my eyes and looked up. Edward was looking down at me and frowning and I almost groaned in frustration. I didn't want to put a face to this thing, this feeling, this electrical pulse. I just wanted to feel.

"Let me feel," I said and tried to pull the back of his head down for a kiss.

"No, stop," he said, shaking his head against my hand. I let it drop. "Be here with me. You're not here. I just had to say your name, like, five times. Where are you?"

Where was I? I was in my head, in my body, living existentially through this fucking feeling.

"I'm here," I said. "I'm here. Right here, with you. In your bed, in your house, I'm here."

And then I was.

It was Edward above me. Edward's weight on my chest. Edward's hands kneading my breast and moving inside me. Edward's breath and body and sweat. Edward, Edward, Edward.

"Edward," I whispered, feeling myself clench around him. "Edward. Oh, fuck."

"Yes, Bella. Yes."

This is what I wanted. He was completely enveloping my body, taking what I had. Taking everything I had.

So intimate it felt like I was dying.

"I have more to give," he said, his voice distant and distinct against the almost silence of his bedroom.

"Then give."

His pacing became more frantic and I met his motions, word for word, and breath for breath. I felt the glorious, wonderful coil of pressure in my stomach. I came, shaking and almost sobbing, screaming his name and giving, giving, giving.

He shuddered, once, and then collapsed on top of me. I could feel him pulse inside of me and this time, I did smile. Huge and goofy. He looked down at me and grinned that stupid, sexy, lopsided grin of his.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, burying my face into his chest. "It was good."

He echoed my word. "Good."

He rolled off of me and took the sheets out from under us. I wanted to get up and clean myself but decided against it. I wanted Edward with me, to stay with me.

Because he was all that was good about me.

I curled into his body.

"I have more to give, Bella," he whispered.

"I know, Edward. Go to sleep."

And we did, me curled against his chest and him wrapped both of his arms around my naked torso.

When I woke up, he was gone.


	13. Day 5, Part 1: Emmett Ruins Everything

**Day 5: Part 1**

**Emmett Ruins Everything**

I didn't want to get out of bed the next morning.

No, correction. I didn't want to get out of _Edward's_ bed the next morning.

I loved the way my naked body felt against his blood red, silken sheets (which I thought were a bit overkill, but placated my unease by insisting Alice picked them out). I loved that when I turned, even the slightest, there was that split second of pause between when I smelled nothing and when his musk would lift from the sheets. I wanted to burrow myself in his bed like a fucking badger and lose myself in this _feeling_.

Last night had been good. Too good. So, naturally, I began to panic.

But it wasn't the usual panic. I didn't feel a bubbling in my stomach or a tightening in my throat, I just felt an overwhelming _disquiet_. I was antsy. I needed a cigarette.

"Do you want some scotch?"

I looked up without moving my head. Emmett was sitting across the booth from me in the only one-star diner in town. While I hadn't been ignoring his phone calls per se, I had made a regular habit of forgetting to call him back.

And I had felt guilty.

Sort of.

But still, here I was, being a good friend and hanging out with Emmett when what I really wanted to do was go back to Edward's bed and masturbate until I passed out from exhaustion.

Emmett was wearing a button-up and was clean shaven, the look successfully distinguishing him from the regular plaid shirt and paint-stained panted denizens that were inhabiting the rest of this disgusting place. But his hands were resting, cupped on the table and he was running his thumbs over each other in a classic Nervous Emmett type of movement. It made me anxious and I slapped the top of his hands to get him to knock it the fuck off.

"We're at breakfast diner, _Emmett_," I said. "There's no scotch here."

Emmett lifted both of his eyebrows up and unclasped his hands to hold them forward in a defensive 'whoa, whoa' gesture.

"Bella, hey," he said, frowning, "look, I'm sorry, all right? You're just . . ." he gestured at me, "you know, acting pissy and it's making me nervous."

"I am pissy," I said. I picked my water glass up and took a sip from it, looking at the ceiling in a pointedly pissy fashion.

"I know, it's why I wanted to see you." He leaned over the table until both of his elbows were propped up and he was able to lace his fingers behind his neck. He looked down at the table. "Jasper called me."

I slammed my glass down on the table, and pushed myself into the back of the booth, wincing as the buttons on the back of my jeans squeaked against the cheap red leather.

"_Jesus._ What the fuck could he possibly want to say to you?"

Emmett frowned further. "He said you freaked out yesterday and bolted from his house. He was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were somewhere safe."

"Jasper's a fucking liar," I said. "He's a psychopath and a pervert and I left because I caught him fucking Tanya and he didn't stop when he saw me. In fact, he _smiled_ at me."

Emmett pulled his eyebrows together low over his eyes. "Are you sure he saw you?" he asked. "I mean, he could have been – "

"He saw me, Emmett. Just as much as he lied to me about the fact that you left town."

Emmett set his jaw. "Yeah, I talked to Jasper about that."

"And?"

"He said that you got freaked out being in his playroom and wanted to leave." Emmett raised his chin a little and I noted the defiant edge to his tone. "And he tried to prevent you because he was worried about where you'd go. So he lied to try to stop you." He shrugged. "I don't know, Bella. It's shady shit, but it was with decent intentions."

I felt a pressure form in my chest. _This_ was not Emmett, not _my_ Emmett. The Emmett who treated me like his little, damaged sister and who coddled me with affection and who calmed down Rosalie when my tantrums got too much for her. This Emmett, sitting across the dirty lacquered table from me with his eyebrows raised, challenging me to denounce him and his fucking twiddling thumbs, was not here to placate me like he usually did. He was here, finally telling me something he should have told me years ago: suck it up, you're not a kid anymore, quit acting like a child, and get your shit together.

The pressure bloomed. Had I finally done that one thing that would push Emmett away? The question startled me and I narrowed my eyes at him. He was now fingering the edge of the plastic menu and looking down at the table, one of his hands still cupping the back of his neck.

I almost laughed. "Rosalie put you up to this."

He sighed. "We're both worried about you, you know? You went through some awful shit with James, and we both noticed the change in you. It's not . . . good. It's damaging you, I can see that. You used to be happy-go-lucky and all that shit and now you're –" he gestured at me "– like this. You can't like it, either."

"Can't like it _either_?"

He huffed out a short breath. "You know what I mean."

"Nope," I said, "I don't think I do. What I hear you say, though, is that you don't like my attitude. My bitchiness. My pathetic-ness. My – "

"Whoa, hey," he said, holding his hands up again, "stop, that's not what I'm saying."

"Isn't it though?" I said. "Don't you think I know what I'm doing? Everything that comes out of my mouth? I know I taint the air when I'm at your place, but I thought that out of all people . . ."

I stopped. He had pushed the menu aside, had splayed out the massive fingers of his massive hand on the table and was now looking down at them. I closed my eyes.

"Look," I said, "I know I can be a pain sometimes, but I really don't mean to ever upset you. Or Rosalie, for that matter. I'm just . . . not happy. And I don't know how to fix it."

He looked up at me. "It's not that you're a pain, Bells. I love you. You know that. It's just . . ." He sighed. "I just don't know what to do to help you. I tried with Jasper, but clearly that's not working. I know you hate what your body does to you, the panic and all that. And I know Tanya used to have a history of it, so I thought that – "

I waved my hand at him and he closed his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. I know. The panic attacks."

He screwed his mouth up and opened it.

"Yes," I bit out, "yes, it helped. But he's so weird that I can't stand to be around him."

He grinned a little and though I wanted to reach across the table and smack his forehead, a slight part of me felt relief in seeing his smile. _That_ was the Emmett I knew; the one who knew how to make inappropriate lightness out of even the most depraved of situations.

"I did kind of warn you about him," he said and despite my raging annoyance, I grinned back.

"Yeah," I said. "He's very formal, blah, blah, blah. He acts like he's from a different century or something. The way he talks."

Emmett's grin widened. "Did you notice he doesn't use contractions? Except when he's pissed about something, then it's like he forgets to be all serious and just lets loose like the rest of us."

"Really?" I asked and I felt my body lean over the table. "I haven't seen him lose it yet. Well, once and all he did was throw his fork down."

"Wait until he's really annoyed with something." Emmett leaned it all conspiratorial-like, and his face became serious again. "You'll hate to hear it, but I really do respect him. But I don't get why Rosalie loves him so goddamn much."

"You're phenomenal, Emmett."

He gave a cocky shrug and leaned back into his chair. "Okay, one more serious thing."

I nodded but cocked an eyebrow.

"What he does _works_. Tanya, Alice, Leah, all of them. Tanya had come to the house parties forever and there was always some small moment when I'd see her totally freeze up. I didn't get what was wrong at the time, but Rosalie told me to ignore it. She was kind of a wreck. Then she met Jasper and since then, she's been happy. She was miserable, like, really miserable. Then, she was good. I'm sorry you're getting that creepy vibe from him, but it might be a good idea to push it aside and let him do what he does best: fix people."

I sighed.

"Bella, it'll only take a little amount of intense time with him and I swear to God you'll _never_ have a panic attack again."

I crossed my arms and leaned back into my seat. I rolled his request over in my head. I didn't like it.

Sensing the end of the discussion, Emmett sighed dramatically. "So when are you going to pick your fucking mutt up?"

Alice had driven me over to the diner saying that she wanted to "surprised me with something delicious" after lunch with Emmett and picked me up when I was done with him. She drove me to a little jewelry boutique on the outskirts of this pathetic, Podunk town. I rolled my eyes the whole way to the store until she smacked my shoulder and told me to calm myself or she wouldn't buy me anything.

"I don't want anything," I said after the fifth employee came up and put earring near my ears. I batted her away. "What do I need fancy jewelry for? Give me some hemp and I design you one hell of a sweet-ass necklace."

Alice gasped. "_Hemp_, Bella? God, no. Makes my skin all itchy and blotchy." She ran her nails over her neck in a psychosomatic fashion and shuddered. "Only white gold for this body."

She leaned over one of the display counters and pointed at a necklace. She beckoned me over and I stared at it for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know. Why are you buying me a necklace?"

"Um," she said and when nothing else followed it, I turned my head to look at her. Both of our faces were bent over the display case and I was so close to her I swear to God I could feel the heat radiating off her fucking face.

"Alice?"

She stared pointedly at the display case, ignoring the heated stare I was shooting her. "Um, well, it's not really _me_ buying it for you."

I shot up, almost hitting her face with mine. She flinched. "Oh, holy Jesus, Alice. _Edward _is buying me jewelry?"

"Well, sort of."

"Yeah, this is kind of a do or don't do thing. You can't _sort of_ buy jewelry. The way you can't _sort of_ drive to Nevada. You did or you didn't – "

"He's taking you to a ball," she spit out, so quickly that I could imagine the sentence as one long word in my head, not punctured by spaces or anything as clearly unnecessary as that.

My throat tightened and another slow, aching roll went through my stomach. "Yeah, that's something he should have run by me first. Bella doesn't do balls. Or dancing. Or - " I gestured at the display case, "jewelry or anything like that."

"Okay, hold on," Alice said, holding her hands up. "He didn't say he was taking you. I said he was taking you. He doesn't even know, all right? I just thought it would be nice. It's in a few days." And then, in a quieter voice, she said, "Though I thought you'd like the dress . . ."

"You bought me a dress?" I spat, my mouth like a goddamn fountain of saliva. "You can't – you can't just – Alice, you – _fuck_." I took a deep breath. "Two, four, six, eight."

I straightened up and spent a second collecting myself before giving her the nastiest look I could muster. But I calmed my face down at her expression. Her mouth was loose and her eyebrows were bowed together over her eyes, but it wasn't an angry expression, just . . . an expression.

"Alice?" I asked. "You all right, there?"

"I'm fine," she said, shaking her head a little. "Let's just go home."

The ride back to Edward's was uncomfortable. No, not uncomfortable. Downright awkward. I tried to analyze Alice's blank expression. There was some cheesy, bubblegum pop song playing loudly in the gaudy Porsche and she was tapping her fingers to it in something resembling a beat. But her eyes were fixed ahead and she looked sort of absent.

"So," I said after a few moments. "Are you, like, upset with me or something? This is awkward."

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "No," she said, "I'm not mad at you. Don't fret."

I believed her so I kept my mouth shut.

She pulled up into the driveway and pressed a button on her rearview mirror, opening the garage. We weaved our way in between the cars and paused so she could grab a can of pop out of the fridge. I opened my mouth to ask her to grab me one, too. But when she slammed the door shut harder than was strictly necessary, I let it go.

I kicked off my shoes in the laundry room and prepared myself to ask her what the fuck her problem was, but she spoke before I could.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?"

I peered around the open door and looked past her into the kitchen.

"I'm James. Who the fuck are you?"


	14. Day 5, Part 2: James

**Day 5: Part 2**

**James**

_James._

_James, James._

_James, James, James._

Every muscle in my body locked. James was leaning against the island counter, holding a half-eaten bagel between his hands. Judging by the small pulp of that bagel that remained, he had spent some time kneading the rough dough in our absence. That distinct nervous and vaguely aggressive behavior caused a spike in my anxiety.

_Oh, fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck fuck fuck._

Alice bent her head back so she could roll her eyes towards me. "_James_ James?"

A large, self-satisfied smirk slowly spread itself across his face. "The one and only, baby."

"Did you invite him here?" she asked me and before I was able to respond, she looked back at James. "Doesn't matter. Get the _fuck_ out of here, dipshit."

He pushed himself off the island it with his hip. "No need to be afraid, honey," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to have a little chat with Bella." He pulled a contemplative face and transferred the bagel in one had so he could scratch at the stubble under his chin. "Funny, I thought this house would have some sort of alarm or something."

I felt Alice tense. She hesitated. "There is, asshole," she spat after a moment. "Cameras, too. The alarm system wasn't turned on but the cameras sure as hell are working. Don't worry, the cops will be here any second."

James took a step towards us and even though Alice was between him and me, I took a step back.

"Nope," he said. "Don't think so. I've been here for – " he checked his wrist, which didn't have a watch on it, " – I dunno, four hours or so. Either the cops in this part of town suck ass or you're a fucking liar. I'm betting on the second one."

"It's almost dinner time," Alice said. "Edward will be back soon and trust me, you do _not_ want to fuck with Edward."

"Edward?" James asked, pursing his lips. "The skinny pale guy? Yeah, I don't think he'll be a problem for me."

He tossed the bagel onto the floor and took another step towards us and Alice matched him with a step forward. Her tiny body was absolutely radiating with anger, causing the muscles in her arms and neck to vibrate. Her little hands were balled into furious fists and I tried to open my mouth to tell her to run, but the only thing that can out was a soft whoosh of air.

"If you don't leave in five fucking seconds, I'm going to rip your goddamn balls off," she said.

If I had been able to move a single muscle, I would have laughed. Her scare tactics may have worked just fine on me, but without a floor lamp to brandish at him, her little body was at a greater risk than mine.

But his _face._

James was an asshole, yes. And a douchebag and a bad person and an egocentric, manipulative, aggressive prick that would as soon beat the shit out of any girl as he would a guy. But he had been my Dom. My first Dom. My only Dom. I had flailed about in some awkward, unstable middle ground since him, tying to fight the parallel forces of wanting desperately to gain my own independence and almost begging any man who passed me on the street to take me. Mixed in with my terror was an indefinable pain; a feeling that began in my chest and spread outward, until the sheer volume of it made me drowsy. I wanted to close my eyes.

"Okay, fine," Alice said, reaching into her purse. "I'll call the cops myself."

But how to warn her? How to tell her that he was about to rip the fucking phone out of her hands and break it before breaking her, while being unable to fucking _move_ out of pure, unadulterated terror? I opened my mouth to try to speak again, but only a strangled moan of protest moved past my lips.

James's face brightened. "Why, Bella. Is that a moan for me?"

He slinked another few steps towards us and Alice matched his stride again until there were only a few feet between them. He sneered at her.

"Get out of the way, princess."

"I'm sorry," Alice said, her voice now condescendingly patient. "You must not have heard me. Get. Out."

He straightened himself and crossed his arms on his chest. He looked down at her. "I was afraid of this," he said, sighing. "You know what's strange?"

"_What_?"

He grinned and uncrossed one arm to reach into his back pocket. "Who _actually_ owns a machete nowadays? I thought they were only for restaurants or some shit." He pulled a staggeringly large knife out of his back pocket by the handle. He held it up and let it twirl a little between his fingers. The overhead kitchen light gave it a nasty gleam as it moved. "I guess in a house this big . . ."

Alice gasped and before she could move, he lunged at her, pulling on one of her arms until she spun in towards his chest. He put his free hand across her shoulder until he could grip her opposite bicep. The knife went to her throat.

"Now, Bella," he said, his voice just as calm, if not a little more out of breath. "I'd like to talk to you."

"Bella," Alice croaked. "Call the cops."

I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly, feeling the tightened muscles in my neck protest the movement.

"Ah, Bella knows, Alice," James said. "She knows it won't make a difference. Anything I need to do to that tight little body of yours will be done long before they get here."

"W-What do you want?" Alice said, pushing her head tighter against James's shirt as he pressed the blade more firmly to her neck. The edge of the knife caused the thin skin of her throat to wrap around the blade, turning it white. My stomach tightened.

He spoke slowly. "I want to talk to Bella."

Alice looked at me. When I didn't move she shrieked. "Bella! _Do something_!"

I opened my mouth for the third time, noting the wet, sucking sound it made as my lips parted. I willed my body to move, to do something, anything. But James's presence here, in Edward's kitchen, enveloped me in that helpless, pathetic role of _James's sub_; one who became so lifeless and inhuman that nothing outside of placating him seemed relevant. Logically, I knew I should go up to him and punch him or kick him or scream in the hopes of startling him into inaction, but a greater and more sinister part of me wanted to disregard Alice and bend to him.

And so I did.

"Just to talk," I whispered.

James smiled. "Just to talk." He looked down at Alice. "But what to do with you while we talk?"

Her purse was still latched around her shoulder and he uncurled his fingers from her bicep to dig through it. I noticed the shocking whiteness of her skin where his fingers had been and I winced, knowing the exact shape and type of bruises Alice would have tomorrow.

James began throwing items from Alice's massive purse on the ground. Finally, he dug out a set of keys and jingled them in front of her face. "I think the trunk will do quite nicely. The trunk, perhaps?"

Fear wiped all the color from Alice's face and her mouth gaped. "N-No, not the trunk."

"Yeah, the trunk," he said.

The color quickly returned to her face, leaving it blotchy and mismatched. "Fine," she spat.

James narrows his eyes at the top of her head. I wanted to punch her. She had been too obvious. Whatever little plan she had just developed in her head had been given away by her sudden acquiescence. _You little bitch, _I thought furiously, _who the fuck says "fine" when they're about to be thrown into a fucking trunk? _

I wanted to let him do it.

"Hmm," James said, "I think not. The bathroom might do, though."

Alice began to struggle against his grip. He outweighed her so considerably that his expression didn't change as she wiggled her little body under his arm.

"Don't be stupid," he barked. "You," he said, bowing his head at me in a jerky motion, "come with us."

And I did. My body, which had been so firmly cemented on the ground I couldn't even consider acting on the "fight or flight" dilemma, bent easily to his command. I wanted to cry. Embarrassment made me unable to continue looking at Alice; the weakness I could feel rolling off of me in heated waves made it impossible to do anything else than what I was trained to do, _wanted to do_: listen to James.

I followed them across the kitchen and into the adjoining hallway.

"Open the door, Bella," James said and I took a hesitant step forward. I placed one of my hands on the silver knob but stopped, unable to move any further.

"Perhaps if we – " I started.

James made a hissing sound. "_Do it_."

So I did. I opened the bathroom door and watched the ground as he threw Alice inside. I heard her stumble over her feet and curse his being here before he slammed the door shut behind her.

"Get a chair."

I walked with concentrated steps into the kitchen a brought him back on of the island's chairs. He wedged it under the doorknob and took a step back. We both watched the knob seize and shake as Alice tried to move it. When the door didn't open, Alice began pounding on the door and screaming my name. I opened my mouth again, trying to calm her into remaining in the bathroom until he left, but before a single breath could leave me, James grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the stairs.

I moved with him seamlessly, following his feet up the wooden steps and into the second floor landing. He paused and looked around the closed doors.

I began to panic. _What the fuck are you doing? That's _Alice_ locked in the bathroom downstairs, the girl who befriended you and kept with you even after you left her to return to Jasper. Friend to Edward, who likes you. You need to run. Now!_

I made a movement to turn around, but James squeezed my hand.

"Don't you go anywhere," he said. "We need to talk."

"Here," I said in a distant voice, pointing to Alice's closed bedroom door.

He pulled me inside her room and pushed me onto the bed. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, burying my head in the space between my legs and my chest until my forehead rested on my knees.

"Bella." His voice was soft now. "Bella, I miss you."

I didn't move. The breath pushing quickly in and out of my mouth was making the small area between my legs and torso warm against my face. I closed my eyes.

"Bella." I felt the bed sag under me. "Bella, look at me, please. I swear, I just want to talk."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"You, me, everything." He sighed. "I – I miss you, you know? You were the best sub I've ever had and we worked so well together. We were good together and I miss it. I miss us. Look, I know I can be an asshole sometimes, but I was all right, right? I was okay. And I've been working so hard on myself." He paused. "I've changed. You wouldn't even believe how much I've changed."

I raised my head. My voice was dead as I spoke. "You locked my friend in a bathroom after threatening her with a knife."

He pulled his eyebrows together and frowned. "Yeah. I know, and that was real shitty of me, but I just needed to talk to you. And she wouldn't have let me. It was the last bad thing I will ever do, I swear my life on it. Just . . . give me another chance? One more chance. And, if it doesn't work out for you, if you're not happy, you'll never hear from me again."

He looked so _sad_. His torso was sagged, whether from the uneven surface of the bed or the desperate longing that was reflected with equal intensity in his expression, I wasn't sure. His hair had grown longer in the few months I hadn't seen him and he had pushed it back against his head and tied it in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. It looked disheveled and greasy. I didn't like it.

"I – I don't know, James. I wasn't happy. You – "

James launched himself off the bed, startling me into silence. He sprinted across the large bedroom and squatted in front of the window before raising his head slowly to look out it.

"FUCK," he cried. "Who drives a silver Volvo?"

I furrowed my brow. "Um, I don't know. I don't know. Maybe Edward? I've never seen his car before."

He pushed himself away from the windowsill and walked to the far end of the room, well out of range of anyone who might be looking upward from the driveway. He began to pace in front of the bedroom door and mumbled an unwavering stream of curses under his breath. I craned my neck towards the window, but could only see the tops of the trees surrounding Edward's property. I let James's heated gait fall into the back of my head as I took stock of my emotions.

I was nervous, sure. Weary, a little. Panicked, not as bad as I thought it would be. But still panicked, because I was entirely too calm considering the circumstance. And concerned, deeply concerned, that I was doing nothing to change it. I wasn't moving, speaking, or shouting instructions at James. I was just existing. Annoyed, I rifled through the general emotions, identifying and tossing them as they became definable. My stomach was definitely tight with something, though, that made me want to cry out, but it wasn't sadness or defeat. It was small and thrummed with furious energy in my chest.

I snapped my head up to glare at James. It was fucking _anger_. James was still pacing frantically. He had his hands on the top of his head and was methodically pushing his hair from the crown down to the rubber band holding it all back. I could feel my expression soften as I looked at him.

Anger, yes it was definitely anger, but . . . I felt the vibration in the floor of Alice's room as the garage door opened.

Fucking Edward.

I gasped and threw both of my hands to my mouth. James turned quickly to look at me.

"What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

With my hands still cupped around my mouth, I shook my head. The absolute _shame_ that was spreading from my throat, out towards my limps, and ending in sharp twangs of pressure in my fingers was so oppressive I willed my body to pass out so I didn't have to deal with whatever shit was coming.

"Fucking shit, Bella," James cried, "what am I going to do?"

Without allowing myself to think, I closed my eyes and nodded my head towards Alice's closet. The closet had loose slats, giving an onlooker a muted view of the contents inside, but I was well aware of the sheer depths of it and felt no reservation in sending him there. But still I spoke in a deadened voice.

"There's clothes for days in there. Get lost in them."

"Right, right," he said. "Of course, the closet."

When I didn't hear his body move across the room I opened my eyes. A few brief flickers in the tight muscles of his face let me know he was choosing which emotion to show. Finally, he frowned deeply and narrowed his eyes.

"Bella," he said. "I love you, but I swear to god, if you turn me in, not even I am going to want you as a sub."

The threat was so thick, so palpable, that if I had stuck my tongue out I was sure I could have felt the pressure of it in my mouth.

So I nodded and my anger took a brilliant turn towards him as footsteps came pounding up the stairway outside the bedroom. James dove into the closet. I heard my name and a door in the hallway opened and then closed. My name again, and another door open and close. I pulled my legs tighter to my chest as Alice's bedroom door open and Edward came storming in the room.

He was magnificent. He saw me sitting on the bed and instantly braced his hands against the doorframe and spread his legs in both a possessive and defensive posture. The change in room pressure the second the door opened lifted and moved the strands of hair on the top of his head, giving his appearance a desperate and maniacal edge.

We stared at each other for a moment. His chest was heaving and, though he'd only been home a few moments, his clothing was rumpled and half-tucked. I parted my lips in a silent, suppressed moan of anguish.

"Edward."

He blinked and the movement snapped him away from whatever headspace he'd inhabited. He straightened his body and tightened his hands into fists.

He roared. "_Where is he_?"

"He already left."

"Then what are you still _doing up here_?"

I frowned. "Wh-What? What does that have to do with anything?"

Edward studied me for a moment. I wavered on the spot, trying to choose between angry defiance at being questioned and blatant sincerity at the silliness of his behavior. It only took a moment before he turned and all but bolted into Alice's adjoining bathroom. I heard the hollow clank of the shower door open and close. My heart began to beat furiously in my chest.

_Okay, you have options_. _Option one is to find out someway to get Edward the fuck out of Alice's room before he can find James. Then, when everyone's asleep, I go back up here and collect James. _I winced. _Oh fuck, this is Alice's room. Okay, option two. I get Edward to go back downstairs and take James into the guest bedroom. Hide him there until they go to sleep and sneak him out._

And then, what? I understood, both logically and somewhat emotionally that James would be back. He had been casing this house long enough to discover Edward's regular schedule and if I was alone for any significant amount of time . . . and that was where my thoughts ended. I could see Edward's lean shadow dancing morbidly on the wood floors of Alice's bedroom as he made circles around the bathroom.

I shot a contemptible look at the closet door and scrambled off the bed after Edward.

Alice had that similar, odd door that hid the toilet from the rest of the bedroom and Edward was in the process of shutting it when I came in.

"Wait, Edward," I said, taking a quick step towards him. I wound my fist around the sleeve of his shirt but in one angry twist, he jerked his arm away from me. "What? What are you pissed off at me about? He's gone."

He shook his head and sidestepped me to head back to the bedroom. I glanced around the bathroom, trying to get my shit together. Alice had an absolute plethora of random makeup containers and utensils spread across the countertop next to the sink. I grabbed a tube of lipstick and uncapped it. In a swift moment, I ran my arm across the counter and knocked as many items as I could onto the floor. The noise was incredible. I scribbled on the mirror as quickly as my shaking hands could manage as Edward stormed back into the bathroom.

"Bella, are you – " He stopped at the threshold of the bathroom and I pointed wildly at the mirror. I had written _LISTEN TO ME _with the red lipstick across the mirror above the sink. I gestured with such frantic insistence that he paused before he opened his mouth again. "Bella, what are you – "

I put my fingers to my lips and wrote _PLEASE_ underneath the first line of text. We stared at each other for a moment and I put every ounce of desperate plea I had into my face. When he didn't move, I wrote more.

_YOU HAVE TO LISTEN. SILENTLY. _I underlined the last word three times and after a pause of hesitation, he nodded.

The full-body relief I felt matched the words that came out of my mouth. "Yes, I'm fine. You know how clumsy I get." I took a deep breath. "Fucking shit, Alice is going to be so pissed that I ruined her makeup. Can you help me pick it up?"

Edward bent down towards the ground but I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer to the mirror. He trampled on a few of the items, scattering them across the room.

"Ugh," I said, "what a mess. Thank you so much."

I wrote _JAMES IS IN THE CLOSET. _Edward's face contorted into blind fury and he made a motion to turn around, but I grabbed the front of his shirt in both my hands and pulled him roughly to me before pointing at the mirror.

"Please, Edward," I said, desperation making a mark on my tone. "I cannot do this without you."

He spent a few moments tying to unwind my fists from his shirt but when I shook him, hard, and let loose a small sob, he stopped.

"Please."

He set his jaw and while he didn't agree, he stopped moving.

"Thank you," I said and let him go.

I wrote _BE DONE IN HERE, CALL THE COPS, _and _ASK ME DOWN TO DINNER _in quick succession.

He stared at me for another moment and his face moved around an emotion I couldn't place. Then, he dropped the angry expression and nodded.

"Do you mind cleaning this up yourself, Bella?" he said. "It shouldn't take too long. Alice will forgive you. I should start dinner."

"Yeah, it's fine." I launched myself at him and wrapped my arms around his torso. He stayed rigid for a moment before he sagged into my body.

"Of course not," he said in a voice that played a delicate line between defeat and reluctance. "I'll call you downstairs in a few minutes."

"Wait," I whispered, and scrawled _IF HE HEARS SIRENS HE'LL RUN._

Edward gave an abrupt nod and headed out of the bathroom. I followed him. He made it to the doorway before paused and turning his head slightly towards the closet. I followed his gaze and saw the unmistakable movement of James's body behind the closed door. Edward hesitated again and I pushed on his back lightly, in what I hoped looked like a playful motion.

"Seriously, it's fine," I said, trying to keep the tightness out of my voice. "I'll be down in a second."

He walked out of the room and I shut the door behind him, hoping to stave off any chivalric attempt on his part to come barreling back through it. When the door clinked shut and the sound of his footsteps retreated down the stairway, James opened the closet door.

"You stupid bitch," he hissed making his way quickly across the room. He was keeping his voice quiet, but small globules of spit made angry flecks as they left his mouth. "You think I'm stupid? You think I don't know what the fuck is going on?"

He grabbed my arm in a tight fist and I squeaked against the pressure. He pulled me into the bathroom and looked quietly at the spilled contents of Alice's ridiculous collection of, now, half-broken makeup items. I looked at his face. He was scrutinizing the mess with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, trying to decide what _exactly_ I had been doing in here. The mirror was outside of his periphery and I cursed myself for not wiping that shit off it before going back into the bedroom.

Panic began to bubble in my stomach.

"Happy?" I bit out before the impending nausea could overwhelm me. "Go back in the closet before Edward comes back. I'll sneak you – "

But I stopped because my knees actually caved out underneath me. His expression had morphed from one of contemplation to one of incredulous disbelief.

"You stupid . . ." He pulled my arm until I spun into him. He pushed me towards the mirror and pinned my body against the counter so we could both face the mirror with my awkward scrawl marring its surface. He grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled it down, forcing my neck to crane upwards. Absently, I recognized his intention was to get me to look up at the mirror, but he had pulled my head down so far that I could only look at the ceiling.

I began to sob. "James, stop," I cried. "You're hurting me. _Stop_."

He unpinned me from the counter and I breathed out a whoosh of air. My hips were throbbing from the pressure of the granite countertop and my knees buckled again. I slid down to the floor and wrapped one of my arms around my body.

"James, listen," I choked, holding a defensive hand out towards him. "Listen, it was only to get Edward downstairs – "

He made a guttural sound of anger and kicked the cabinet next to me. I cringed away from his foot as the wooden door cracked and groaned.

"You are a _lying, stupid, disgusting_ . . ." he said, kicking the cabinet in time with each venomous insult he spit out.

"James!" I cried. "Shut up! Edward is going to hear you!"

"What?" he said and barked out a hollow laugh. "Edward is going to hear me? He's already called the cops, you stupid cow! There's nothing he could do now that would even scratch the surface of the shit feast you've thrown at me."

He grabbed onto the hair at the top of my head and pulled it upward. I cried out against the pain and tried to scramble up as quickly as I could to follow his tight grip. He began to turn me back towards the mirror, but halfway up I stepped on one of Alice's many tubes of lipstick and felt my foot give out under me. I crashed back to the floor and watched the edge of the counter and it came towards my face.

The pain was unbelievable. The granite counter hit my nose and I both heard and felt the crack of the bone as it broke in half. The pain, the absolute agony of that break, spread until I swear I could feel it in my fucking feet. I took one last, enormous breath, and this time, I did cry out. I screamed. Startled, James let go of my hair and I crumpled to the ground, my hands cupped around my nose, and writhed in the pure agony of it.

James stepped out of the bathroom while I tried to control my vomiting, but it felt like only a moment before the bedroom door slammed open and both Edward and Alice fell into the room. Edward was as feral as I'd ever seen him, his hands already in fists and raised to his face as though preparing to box the shit out of James. Alice had . . . the floor lamp. And even though I was crying harder than I ever had, and my eyes only reflected a blurred outline of the reality beyond the bathroom, I felt the muscles twitch on the sides of my mouth.

Edward roared again, but this time no words followed it. It was just a noise; a feral, snarling noise that seemed to start in the very bottom of his stomach and rip out of his throat. It was beautiful. And it was for _me_.

A burst of adrenaline and I was on my feet, stumbling through the bathroom and into the bedroom. Alice turned towards me and gasped, dropping the floor lamp, and ran to me. She peppered my face with light, feathery touches.

"Oh my god, Bella, oh my god," she whispered, touching the area of my face around my nose.

I looked over her head and saw James, cowering on the floor in front of the closet. He was curled around himself, one hand wrapped across his stomach and the other held out towards Edward in a silent plea to not hurt him. Edward was bent towards James, his lean figure towering over the lesser man, whispering a string of words I couldn't hear. It must have been something awful though, because each time Edward's jaw moved, James's eyes grew progressively wider and his face began to pale rapidly.

"Bella," Alice whispered and I tore my eyes away from Edward's body and refocused on Alice. "Bella, what happened?"

"I slipped and hit my face on the counter." The half-lie slipped easily from my mouth.

"You fell?"

"Yeah, well, you know," I said, trying to form a coherent story in my head. "Yeah, I just slipped. You have way too much fucking makeup." I forced a partial smile in the hopes of lightening her somber expression.

"What – Bella, that's not funny. What the fuck . . ." She paused and her mouth set into a thin line. "How long have you been doing that?"

I looked past her head again but she gripped my chin in her palm and turned my face back towards her.

"Doing what?"

"Lying for him."

My mind went blank. "I-I'm not lying. It's not a lie. I seriously slipped standing back up and fell. Alice, this is really stupid."

"What part did he play?" she asked. Her eyes were alive with an intensity I wanted to cower away from. But her eyes weren't locked on mine, they were doing quick, jerky sweeps across my face. She started at my hairline, ran her gaze down and across my cheeks, and over my lips. Then she moved upward, starting the sequence again.

"No, it's not – "

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bella!" she cried and pushed me away from her. I stumbled back a little and braced myself on the armoire as my knees buckled again. My head felt light and that damned, fucking drowsiness was back. I felt it creeping across my chest like a black tar. It moved upward, encasing my ribs and throat in its grasp.

I watched in what seemed like half-speed as Alice swiped the floor lamp back into her hands and joined Edward, who was still viciously spouting whatever threats he was making at James.

"Move, Edward," she said and without hesitation, he stepped aside. Alice leaned down towards James and took a deep breath before her chest contracted and a large, sticky glob of spit landed on his face, right between his eyes.

James narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to give her a cutting remark, I was sure. But before he could so much as breathe, she lifted the floor lamp over her head and smashed the base onto his forehead. He dropped immediately, out cold.

I fell to the ground and let out a low moan. "Oh my god," I cried, "what did you _do_?"

The lethargy was creeping up towards my chin, relaxing my tongue in the back of my throat until I couldn't speak. I just groaned, letting my throat contract and expand on instinct rather than on conscious effort. I crept across the floor towards Alice and Edward. After a moment, Alice wailed, once, and threw her hands over her eyes. She stepped around Edward and ran from the room. I looked up at Edward. His hands were unclenched and hanging loosely at his sides; his face was blank.

I groaned again as the black tar moved further up my face until it covered my eyes. Without even a hint of warning, I vomited violently onto the floor. With that, I closed my eyes and let the blackness consume me.


	15. Day 5, Part 3: The Burning Fields

**Day 5: Part 3**

**The Burning Fields**

I awoke from a nightmare.

"Bella?"

My body was rigid on the bed. I was lying on my back and both my arms and legs were spread out. My hands were gripping the comforter so hard I was sure that if I relaxed my fingers it was _really_ going to hurt.

I waited for my heart to slow down.

But it wouldn't.

Suddenly, I felt a wave of dizziness as the muscles in my throat contracted shut. I tried to take a breath, but the only result was a high, whiny sound as air tried to get through to my lungs.

"Bella?" Alice bent down next to the bed. "Bella, what's wrong?"

I tried to take another breath, but my chest only heaved with the effort. A wave of panic came, so strong and so intense that it caused my eyes to roll into the back of my head. I clawed at my throat blindly, scratching the thin skin until it felt wet.

My stomach retched as the panic began to set in. I felt the tight burn of bile as my stomach attempted to rid its contents. My lungs were open and desperate for air and I felt another wave of dizziness as the bile began to trickle into them.

"Oh, fuck," Alice said. "Bella, count!"

I tried to suck in another breath and then shook my head emphatically. _In one, two. Out one, two. In one, two. Out – _

"Oh god, oh fuck." Alice's voice reached a panicky high. "COUNT!"

I opened my mouth and began to gape. Alice screamed for Edward.

"You have to breathe, Bella! You – " She paused and through the onslaught of light-headedness, I felt the cool air of the room reach my stomach as she threw the comforter off of me and lifted my shirt. "I'm sorry," she whispered and then I felt a sharp bite of pain over my belly button.

My throat opened in a violent gasp. The small of my back seemed to lift off the bed as I stretched my torso, allowing my lungs more room to open. The relief of breathing lasted only until my brain understood that there was something foreign in my lungs, and I threw myself over the edge of the bed and began hacking onto the ground.

The panic began to set in again. This was much worse than not breathing. This was taking small gasps of air only to have my lungs dispel more than they brought in. Repeatedly, until I could imagine my lungs contracting in on themselves and shriveling until only a dried-out version of their original shape remained.

I slammed my hand on the edge of the bed, frustrated with my body's inability to behave. This, this thing that my body was doing right now, was actually killing me. My body was using my emotions, my panic, and _killing me_.

My stomach turned again. But this time, it was not from blind panic, but from guilt. _Oh, god. Are you doing this? Are you going to do this, again? Again? After everything . . ._

"What happened?" Edward cried, sprinting into the room and skidding across the floor. I opened my eyes and looked down at the floor. A small pile of wet, sticky-looking bile lay there. A few loose dribbles were also splattered in sporadic dots on the edge of the comforter, marring the silken red fabric.

_I ruined it._

"Bella, are you okay?" Edward said.

"Breathe, Bella!" Alice cried.

I spit. "I am breathing," I choked out. "Like I'd stop breathing."

Edward began to rub small, nervous circles on the small of my back. When he had opened the bedroom door and the room had adjusted to the change in pressure, I could smell him before he had reached me. He was close enough now that I could tilt my head to the side and lay my head in the small area between his arm and shoulder. Though my face was wet and sticky, I rubbed my nose into the sleeve of his button down. It was warm from his body and smelled like his musk; a rich, deep smell that reminded me of leather chairs and pine needles. I inhaled deeply, stretching my injured lungs until I was sure the scent of him was imprinted in my mind and the images it brought forth were burned into the backs of my eyelids.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said as I heaved a dry sob. "What happened, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I croaked. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just . . . stupid panic. The usual Bella shit."

Perhaps sensing that I wasn't ready to sit up, he sat down next to me on the bed and pulled my head into his lap. I buried my face between his stomach and hips.

He chuckled. "I take it your nose doesn't hurt?"

I pulled my head back from his stomach far enough to reach up and touch my nose. A plastic sheath was covering it from the bridge between my eyes down to under my nostrils. It perfectly encased my nose. I ran my fingers over the hard plastic until I reached the ends. Copious amounts of rough tape kept it in place.

"No, it doesn't hurt. Did I break it?"

Edward sighed. "Afraid so." He sounded nervous. "I, uh, well, I took the liberty and fixed your nose for you while you were out. I hope that's all right."

"Fixed it?" I asked. "As in, performed surgery on it?"

"Does it matter?"

I lowered my head and burrowed my face back into his stomach. I moved my jaw a little, finding comfort in the scratchy material of his jeans on the side of my face.

"No," I said in a soft voice. "It doesn't matter."

_Can you fucking do this? Can you do this? After _that_?_

_No. I'll probably fail epically. And do with agony. _

_Because it almost killed you._

I buried my face harder into Edward. He began rubbing my back again.

"The cops got him," Edward said in a small voice after a moment.

"That's good," I said in an even smaller one.

Edward and I, we should have just existed. On that bed, away from the plights that insisted on creeping around the edges of our bubble. In that bathroom, too, with it's sandy tiles and ridiculous brown door. But there were plagues there, in those places of respite, that altered and blurred the essential reality of what was outside them. The plagues were both so overwhelming and so ironically insignificant, that they burned whatever lie before both of us. And the trails that could have been forged, _should_ have been forged, were marred by the knowledge of those fires. We, Edward and me, were following ashen trails of what should have been undiscovered ground but were forever ruined by plagues that always superseded our arrival.

Fucking shit, what Edward and I had was _good_. It was always good. I had always said it was good; it felt good, seemed good, and . . . remained good. But it wasn't excellent, wasn't phenomenal or fantastic or any other similar word that meant better than good.

Not because it wasn't those things, but because, whatever it could be, it wasn't _enough_.

I turned my head to look up at Edward. He was still rubbing my back but his focus was across the room. I turned over and followed his gaze.

Alice was sitting on the ground by the bedroom door. Her body was slack and unmoving, as though she had fallen asleep sitting there. But she had thick, uneven trails of makeup running two black lines down from her eyes to her chin.

Edward spoke. "Alice?"

She looked up at me. Her body shook, once, as a silent sob ripped through her.

She parted her lips. "You're leaving us again, aren't you?"


	16. Day 5, Part 4: Apparently, I'm Incapable

**Day 5: Part 4**

**Apparently, I'm Incapable of Learning Any Sort of Lesson**

I didn't have to ring the doorbell when I arrived at Jasper's. The loud rumbling of my truck had stated my arrival well before any action on my part could have. I had sat in the truck for a moment, though, pressing my face against the cool glass of the window. I spent the first three minutes in my truck trying to figure out ways to beg Jasper to take me back. I spent the second two berating myself for even considering such a lowly act when he had been a complete and utter douchebag the whole time. I spent the last four just thinking. Thinking of nothing in particular, but mostly about Jake. Because he was safe to think about.

"What happened to your nose?"

Jasper answered the door, looking as calm and infuriatingly indifferent as usual.

"Someone hit me," I said, trying to mimic the bored pitch of his voice.

"Who?"

"James."

His expression didn't change for a moment and I considered opening my mouth and spouting a list of appropriate responses he could have given instead of such an awful fucking answer. But then, in a sort of slow motion, as though working out the details of what I had said and reacting to them as he figured each one out, his top lip began to curl over his teeth.

He stepped back over the threshold of the door and opened it further.

To say that Jasper was surprised I was back would have been quite the understatement. He called Tanya to lead me back to my room, where the ridiculous number of clothing still hung untouched in my closet and fresh new boxes of lavender bath beads by the half-dozen were piled on the bureau.

Tanya was fucking excited to see me, though. She was prattling on about how much she missed my company and how she had been trying to figure out a way to get me back for the past day and oh! what a surprise it was that I _came_ back. I half considered jogging her memory about when she had been a sad, frozen robot the last time I had seen her in the playroom, but decided that denial was much better. It always was.

"Some new House Rules," she said, handing me the familiar green folder with a dramatic flip of her arm after we reached my bedroom. "Master says to read them over and then join us for dinner. I made pot roast."

She seemed particularly proud of herself so I rubbed my stomach and smiled ironically at her. "I do love eating dinner here. Mind if I take a shower first, though?"

Tanya pursed her lips. "I suppose so. Though Master wants to eat as soon as possible so we might start without you."

Against my wishes, my smile widened. "I'll just reheat it, no worries."

Her face fell. "Um, well. Re-read the old House Rules, too, maybe?"

"All right."

Tanya warmed the water up for me and I showered and wrapped my hair in a towel, before sitting stark naked on the bed in order to properly revel in how damn nice it felt to be clean. The green folder was perched, unwittingly, by my feet and I spent a long moment trying to decide whether or nor I really wanted to open it.

_You could be cured. _

Decent logic.

_You could fix whatever you fucked up with Edward. _

Relatively decent logic, though I wasn't a huge fan of the idea of simply biding my time here until I was fixed enough to get into a relationship.

_Right, better make this about you. Emmett thinks it's a good idea. And he has your dog, so . . . _

Deal.

Original House Rules:

_There is to be no drugs, no smoking, and no gratuitous use of profanity within the house. Alcohol use must be kept to a minimum. Smoking may be done outside and cigarettes must be disposed of in the proper manner._

_Occupants will have free roam of the house. All areas of the house are permissible, expect the playroom, which will be locked when not in use. If entering a private bedroom or bathing area, please ask permission. Tanya is the only exception, unless otherwise stated._

_Guests are not permitted unless permission is given. No exceptions._

_All food, clothing, and toiletries are for your use. No permission is necessary. The only exceptions are Tanya's and my clothing, which are off limits. Tanya has purchased clothing items for you. They are only to be used by Tanya with your permission._

_Tanya is most comfortable when she is assisting guests and house members on a constant basis. Refer to Tanya whenever a need arises. Examples include showering, food preparation, and laundry._

_I expect the playroom and the specific relationship Tanya and I have to remain secret to anyone unaware. It may only be discussed within the house._

_Because you are not my sub, you are free to come and go as you please. However, I ask that you inform either Tanya or myself on location and timeframe, in order to guarantee your safety._

Revised House Rules:

_Tanya feels most comfortable walking around the house naked. She will do so at every opportunity. This is non-negotiable; if you are not comfortable with it, you may leave._

_At the far end of the second floor, there is a fully-equipped gym and weight room. Please make ample use of the machinery in there. However, either Tanya or myself are required to be in attendance at all times._

_As a guest in our home, and under the purposes of Systematic Desensitization, I will require you to behave in a manner that you are most likely not accustomed to. Examples include regular playroom visits and party attendances. The latter will involve a consultation with you, though the final decision is mine alone._

_You are not required to add any additional amount of income to the household._

_While Tanya finds pride in her work by assisting guests and household members, there are regular cleaning activities that will be split between she and you. This, too, is non-negotiable._

_With permission from Emmett, I have taken the liberty of removing the remaining items in your apartment and transferring them here. Items that I deemed unworthy of transport, I have disposed of. Most clothing items were included in the disposal. If any issues arise, please see me as soon as possible so we can discuss a solution._

Holy Jesus, naked Tanya? I contemplated this for a moment before deciding that, aside from a serious ego bust on my part, naked Tanya was probably not going to kill me. I sent a silent prayer to the gods of clothing and clothing accessories that she had been wearing a bathrobe when leading me to my room. Concerning clothing, however, I was vaguely uncomfortable with Jasper's quick disposal of my clothes.

I ran my tongue over the front of my teeth in a contemplative gesture. For what is was worth, I supposed, it had been quite an ugly debacle of mismatched clothing. Most of it were still items I had worn in high school, and whatever new things there were thrown in were only there because of jobs or whatever I had bought out of the you-must-have-something-new principle of being an adult. I collected myself from the bed and rifled through the massive closet for a few familiar pieces before I went downstairs.

I crossed the living room with every intention of just continuing into the kitchen, but stopped at the threshold when I saw Tanya's very naked body perched lightly on one of the barstools that circled the kitchen's island. She had a newspaper opened in front of her and was holding it with one hand while drinking a glass of something in the other. Her back was to me and I stared at the curved arc of her spine as she bent over to place the glass on the countertop.

I cleared my throat and she turned her head around towards me.

"Hello, Bella!" she said. She folded the newspaper and put it down on the counter before hopping off the barstool. Her thighs and breasts bounced lightly as she moved towards me and before my staring could take a creepy turn, I looked at her face.

"Hey," I said.

"No need to be embarrassed," she said in a casual way, as though telling me where I could place my dirty plate after dinner. "I'd offer you something to eat, but Master hadn't eaten all day and there's nothing of the pot roast left." She smiled. "But I can make you anything else."

I looked up at her, careful to train my eyes so they looked only at her face. "Why do you do that?" I asked. "Call Jasper 'sir' sometimes and 'master' others?"

She walked over to the sink and laid her glass in the bottom of it. She turned around and leaned against its metal edge, both palms propped up on its lip. "Well, if we're inside his home, he's the master, so Master. When we're not, it's Sir. It's respect, I guess." She frowned. "How's your nose?"

I gently touched the plastic sheath. "It's all right."

Tanya was beautiful, of course. Her hair, which was usual splayed across the font of her body in long, wavy lines was pinned loosely on top of her head. The style gave her a carefree, childish appearance and I was struck by the dissimilarities between her and Alice. Alice was lean, but very small, and her lack of height trumped the apparent leanness of her body. Tanya was tall, really tall, and it perfectly accentuated her innate elegance. Or, perhaps, it was the cause of her elegance.

I looked up at her face again and she was looking back, one side of her mouth curled up in amusement.

"Yeah," I said. "I can be creepy sometimes. I promise it'll be the last time I ogle your chest." I sat down on a barstool and reached over to the wicker basket on the counter and pulled out an apple. I took a bite and chewed for a minute. "So this whole . . . waiting on me thing. It's going to take some time getting used to."

She unwound her fingers from the sink and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I've been doing that sort of stuff for, like, 20-some years. It's going to take a lot of time for me to not just turn a shower on or fix myself sometime to eat whenever I want. Like, a long time."

"How long?"

I took another bite of the apple. "Like, a few weeks?"

Tanya pressed her eyebrows together a frowned in a delicate way. "A few weeks," she echoed.

"But I promise, I'll do the best I can until then."

"All right," she said and then glanced above my head. I followed her gaze behind me towards a large, antiquated clock hanging on the wall aside the entryway to the living room. "Oh, damn. I'm sorry, but Master wanted to see you in the playroom at seven o'clock, but I told him you were still upstairs and that I'd send you whenever you came down." She turned and pulled out some sort of pastry from a brown bakery bag on the counter, wrapped it in a napkin, and handed it to me. "There's a bathroom two doors before the playroom. Throw out whatever you don't finish there."

With an apple in one hand and a pastry in the other, I stared at her again. But this time, it was purposeful. Her face was relaxed and her eyebrows had separated and returned to their proper places. But her expression was sort of blank; like she was listening to a not-particularly-exciting lecture on something she didn't really care about.

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you okay?"

Her expression became exaggerated; she smiled widely, too widely, until her eyes became tiny, painful slits. "Of course, why do you ask?"

"I don't know. You look – " I gestured at her body with the hand that held the pastry, " – checked out."

She glanced at the clock again and I held my hands up.

"All right, all right," I said. "I'll bid you farewell."

I trekked slowly up to the playroom, depositing the entire pastry and the few bites that remained of my apple in the bathroom along the way. I ran my fingers through my hair and righted the hemline of my T-shirt as I stared at that fucking terne handle. Not only was the vertical handle terne, but there was this additional rectangle of perfectly smooth, shiny metal that surrounded it, bolted to the door by tiny screws.

I pressed my finger against one corner of the metal and ran it across to the other side, leaving an oily stain in the vague shape of my fingerprint. I grinned.

I knocked on the door at it opened almost immediately. The air of the hallway, as it rushed in to fill the stagnant air of the playroom, made the soft ringlets of Jasper's hair to brush away from his face. Goddammit, he had that _angelic_ look about his face. The one that convinced me all he needed was a bedtime story and a glass of warm milk and he'd become the puddle of adoring mush that would make him a half-decent . . . animal.

I frowned and he mimicked my expression.

"Bella. Care to come in?"

"Sure."

He gestured fluidly to one of the overstuffed armchair and I took a minute to appreciate the hand-to-arm-length ratio. His hands were large, but lean, the way that I'd imagine guitarist fingers to look. He wore a small, almost invisible, silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand. At first, it looked tarnished, but when he drew his hand back towards his body, it didn't shine in the light of the room like it should have. I squinted my eyes.

"Are you wearing a ring made out of pewter?" I blurted.

He had bent over the ottoman in front of the other chair, presumably to pull it forward towards my chair, as he was apt to do, but stopped mid-bend. He curled his fingers into his palm.

"I am," he said. "Very perceptive of you to notice."

"It's beautiful," I said. His lips curled at the edges and I flushed. "I mean, it's incredibly manly and reminds me of something a gladiator would wear."

His smiled disappeared immediately. Instead of moving the ottoman towards my chair, he crossed the room and sat on the low coffee table pushed up against the far wall. He spread his legs and placed a corresponding elbow on each of his knees.

"Sorry, was that inappropriate?" I said, noting that I sounded more exasperated than apologetic.

Ignoring my half-assed apology, he said, "Alice called me shortly before you arrived and explained to me what happened last night. She understood the implications of your actions during your episode. Alice was with me for a long period of time and your behavior was not lost on her."

I nodded.

"I assume you plan on staying here for much longer this time?"

I nodded again.

"Then I must warn you, Bella. If you leave this house again you will not be welcomed back."

I froze. I had been in the process of crossing my legs underneath me, but stopped with only one leg on the chair. I looked at him. His expression was calm but his eyes were a little wider than nonchalance would have usually accounted for. They were also intense, cuing me in to the fact that this wasn't one of his usual "Jasper's word is the gospel" type of thing. He was asking me to choose.

I considered it. I thought of Edward and his look of blatant desperation as he watched me walk out of his house today. I opened my mouth to tell Jasper I didn't know if that was something I could do. But then I thought of those burning fields and the ashen trails and the devastation that lay before Edward and me. And I nodded.

"Good," he said, rising from the table. "Then shall we proceed." He held an arm out towards the bench and I frowned.

"I'm not really sure about that."

The glorious muscles in Jasper's neck tightened. "I was lead to believe that you read the additional House Rules?"

"Well, yes, but – "

"Bella, what do you see yourself in this house?"

"What?"

His jaw clenched this time. I almost smiled. This less-calm, less-collected Jasper, in all his magnificent gorgeousness, was . . . highly amusing. I pressed my lips together and licked them, trying to hide the smile I knew was creeping around the edges of my mouth.

"Perhaps I need to be more direct," he said and my smile vanished almost immediately.

"There's no reason to be condescending, Jasper."

This time, he froze. A smirk had begun to work his lips, but it stopped halfway through. He narrowed his eyes. We stared at each other for a moment and I was at a complete loss. I hadn't really said it rudely, or annoyingly, or anything synonymous to that, just stated it. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"I wasn't being an ass, um, I mean a jerk, sorry. It was just not necessary, you know?"

He nodded slowly. "Then please, let me restate my question. Do you see yourself as a sub in this house? As my sub?"

"No." The work was a quick, clipped syllable.

"Then I will repeat my question. What do you see yourself as?"

"Someone who is trying to overcome her panic attacks?"

He frowned slightly. "Is that all?"

"Is there anything else?"

We stared at each other for a moment.

"Bella," he said. "I know for a fact that Emmett endorses what I do here. It would be wise to listen to him."

My temper flared. "What do you think I'm doing here? I'm _here_, aren't I?"

"In turn," he said, his voice lowering and assuming a more gravelly pitch. "I would suggest that you discontinue your habitual treks between here and my brother's house."

"What? We _just_ went over that. You said that _if you leave again, you're not welcomed back_." I lowered my voice and tucked my chin into my neck. "And I said _okay_. That all just happened."

He lowered his head a little and smiled slowly. "Thank you for refreshing my memory, Bella."

We stared at each other for another moment. My eyebrows were raised towards my hairline in a look that I hoped clearly said: _And . . . . ? _His head was still bowed and he was now looking at the ground, his blank face suggesting he was purposefully remaining unemotional. But his eyes were searching the ground, running back and forth quickly across the hard wood as though following the trail of an erratic, three-legged bug as it made frenzied dashes beside his feet.

I opened my mouth to ask him what his fucking problem was, when that ear-splitting crackling noise shot from the intercom and spilled into the room. I jumped and fought back a little shriek, while Jasper remained entirely unmoved. Except for his eyes, which had stopped darting.

"Master?" The snakes of wiring wrapped between the walls of the home made Tanya's small and demure voice sound grainy and robotic.

Jasper crossed the room and pressed the red button next to the speaker.

"Yes, Tanya?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Master, but Sam called."

"And?"

"It's on. Tonight at nine. The fish mart."

"Thank you, Tanya."

Jasper let go of the button and then performed the most un-Jasper feat I'd seen thus far. He leaned his shoulder against the wall behind the intercom, stuffed his hands indelicately into pockets, and crossed his ankles so the tip of one of his ridiculous pointed-toe shoes was pressed against the floor. He raised one of his eyebrows and pursed his lips in a way that suggested upcoming conspiratorial actions.

He was excited about something.

"So, Bella," he said in what I was sure was supposed to be a flirtatious way. Except the monotony of his voice failed to take on any additional pitch. "Care to come out with Tanya and me tonight?"

I was, of course, instantly apprehensive. "Where?"

"I know you have often attended Emmett's house parties. But have you ever attended a _real_ dungeon party before?"


	17. Day 5, Part 5: The Dungeon

**Day 5: Part 5**

**The Dungeon**

Thirty minutes later and we were all sitting in Jasper's Mercedes, driving at a speed that did little to soothe my nauseated stomach. Tanya was wearing a thick, heavy collar and one of those ridiculous all-leather outfits that squeaked when she walked. Her eyeliner was dark and thick and in the half-light of the car, she sort of looked like a demon.

An awkward struggled had occurred as Tanya and I fought for the backseat. I didn't really want to spend any period of time sitting next to Master of the Night Jasper, regardless of his surprisingly good mood, and Tanya was having a weird sort of sub fit about sitting in the front seat when there was a guest on board. But after she threw a few panicked glances at Jasper, I took the front.

Jasper had some soft piano and violin montage playing in the car, and I was angry with myself for a pang of sadness I felt after remembering Edward's playback song on his cell phone. The pang tightened my chest for a second and I fought the urge to hurdle myself out of the car and scramble towards his house.

Tanya provided most of the entertainment for the ride to the dungeon party, babbling on about who might be there and who might now and, wow, how long had it been since they'd gone to one, exactly? A few weeks, surely. Maybe more. When had she last gotten her highlights done? It was around then.

I kept mostly quiet. Mumbling a few times when Tanya's voice reached an excited pitch. But mostly, I pressed myself as far into the passenger side door as I could, trying to put as much space between Jasper and myself as at all possible. I was sure, that with my leg pushed so far into the door handle that it hurt, and my arm falling asleep from being pinned between my body and the window, I wasn't being subtle. But the guy still made me nervous. He wasn't interacting with Tanya at all; only letting her babble on about what a phenomenal time we'd all have. I guess I wasn't interacting with her either, though.

Then Tanya said something about a line of whipping benches and taking turns and my nerves began to fray.

"Ugh," I groaned, pressing my check harder against the cold glass. There was absolutely no way I was ready for this. I hadn't even shown any excitement after Jasper had asked me to come along. I thought about those fucking House Rules and how I had already broke one by not offering to take the bench in his playroom, and my throat began to tighten. I opened my mouth in an attempt to speak, but groaned quietly when the words wouldn't move past my lips.

With that quiet sound, Jasper pulled the car over to the side of the road and slammed it into park.

"Lean over," he said at the same time the first wave of nausea turned my stomach. I pressed my face into my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. My body trembled just a little as he lifted my shirt off of my back. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," I said, gripping the underside of my thighs. "I'm going to throw up."

I reflexively tightened the muscles in my lower back only a moment before Jasper's hand smacked it in one quick, painful motion. I shuddered a little, disliking the pain, but after a moment of assessment, found that my panic had subsided.

"Where are we?" Jasper asked.

I swallowed. "Green."

He merged back onto the road and I kept my head on my knees. He kept his hand on my back.

Tanya had run out of things to say.

The second Jasper parked in front of building, he got out. I sat up in my seat, stretching my back taut as I rose. We had been driving for quite a while, and I was now stiff. I stopped moving halfway into a sitting position, and leaned towards the window to look up at the sigh outside the building. _Oshiri Sushi and Fish Mart. Figures_, I thought gloomily.

I turned my head to look at Tanya when I saw her door open. Jasper bowed into the car and gave her what I can only assume was the first genuine smile I'd seen. He extended his hand for her and she bowed her head in response, and graciously took it. He pulled her out of the car and shut the door. They rounded the front of the car and stood in between it and the building. He picked her up and spun her around in a little circle and though I couldn't hear them through what I was sure was straight up bulletproof glass, the way her mouth opened let me know she was probably squealing. He put her down and bent her backwards, following the lean curve of her body with his, until he could reach her and place a chaste kiss on her lips. She threw her head back and laughed and that sincere smile was back, opening his mouth wide and gently bearing his teeth. He was happy.

Sitting in his car, wrapped in a dress shirt that was not my own, but one Tanya had found for me in the depths of my closet, and peaking into a couple's (sort of) private exaltation, I felt heartbreakingly alone. What the fuck was I doing here? I had Edward, only a ten minutes' drive from Jasper's, who was probably weeping over the fact that I wasn't with him, and instead I was sitting outside of a fucking _sushi_ restaurant, pretending not to stare at Jasper and Tanya as they flounced about?

_Why are you doing this again?_

_Because you have a panic disorder?_

_Why was that a question?_

_Why are you asking such a stupid thing? You know why you're here._

_This panic thing isn't _so_ bad._

_Yeah. It is._

I had definitely zoned out for a moment. And I must have kept my eyes fixed on Tanya and Jasper when I had, because when I came back to earth, the first thing I saw was Jasper staring at me.

He was facing me and Tanya had her arms wrapped around his neck, her body flush against his. She was kissing a small, delicate pattern up the side of his neck and his head was cocked to the side, allowing her full access to his skin. He was doing that _looking_ thing he often did while looking at me, but his expression wasn't really one of interest, or amusement, or disgust. He just looked curious. His calm demeanor was back, set in place by the realization that he was being watched. I smiled. Surely he knew he had been watched. Jasper always knew. Jasper probably put on a show for Bella, just to be a prick.

But his carefree expression was gone. Instead, he had a fierce sort of penetrating gaze that simultaneously shot goosebumps along my arms as it made my inner thighs tingle. Tanya's whimsical parade of kisses reached upward and, as she pressed her lips under his ear, he closed his eyes and leaned into her kiss. A soft spot. I looked away.

But only for a moment. And when I look back, he winked at me.

I frowned. Still, the gesture was not lewd, only a humored response to my apparent inability to look away, but it was enough. The loneliness was back, further spurred when he bowed his head towards Tanya as she whispered something in his ear. He nodded, his eyes still on me.

Games, games, games. It was always fucking games with Jasper; what did his smiles mean? Was that really a sweet statement or just pure condescension? Did he actually enjoy my company or was he just performing a duty for Emmett? Did I say the right thing or the wrong thing? Half the fucking time I talked with the guy, I was never sure if I just said something that offended or amused him.

Games, games, games.

So I winked back, knowing perfectly well that whatever his response, I would have no clue why it happened.

Both his eyebrows shot up in surprise and I sent a silent thanks to the powers that be that he couldn't see my blush in the dim interior of the car. Then his eyebrows lowered and his eyelids came together and he glared at me.

_All right, well, you winked. You don't know why you did it, and he doesn't. So he's pissed._

Then, I watched in muted exasperation as his eye relaxed and a slow, large smile formed across his face. He was pretty close to beaming and as the corners of his lips reached his eyes, I actually sighed.

_The shark smiles. Why is he smiling? I don't know. Because he only smiles at himself._

_Congrats, Bella. You made clear what you've known all along: Jasper Whitlock is a sexy, confusing mess._

Games, games, games.

I let out an annoyed huff and got out of the car.

Jasper watched me as I approached them. Tanya was still splattering the side of his neck with kisses but his hands were resting too loosely on her hips for him to really be interested. When the staring didn't subside, I cocked and eyebrow and put my hands on my hips.

"Leave your purse in the car," Jasper said. I looked down at both of my arms.

"What?" I asked. "I'm not carrying a purse."

Tanya slowly untangled herself from Jasper. The gesture was painful to watch, mostly because it looked like she was de-suctioning herself from him and all I could think about was the feeling of a leather car seat being suctioned away from sweaty legs.

Jasper, now disengaged from Tanya, walked back to the car and grabbed a duffle bag from the backseat before gesturing for me to follow them. I walked quickly, irritated by the way their fast gait made me have to almost run to keep up. We approached the entrance to the fish mart and Jasper opened the door for Tanya and ushered her inside, before following and keeping the door open for me behind his back.

I guessed I wasn't sure what I had expected. Truthfully, it just looked like a restaurant. Dark tables and dark chairs spread across the room. A run-of-the-mill sushi bar was propped against the far wall. Statues of geisha women and, surely, various other important Japanese men stood imperiously from every corner. It was dark, really dark, and, to my astounded horror, I groped for Tanya's hand. She took it willingly and squeezed gently. It did nothing to calm the irrational thrumming of my heart in my throat.

We rounded the last set of tables and proceeded towards a similarly dark-lit staircase. An enormously tall man, made more enormous by the sheer size of his gut, stood with a clipboard at the top of the flight. He nodded curtly at Jasper who smiled tolerantly and the three of us went down the stairs.

About halfway down, I began to hear – well, feel is perhaps more apt – the steady thump of a bass of a stereo and the static noise of many people chatting all at once. The last sound put me at ease. This was going to be all right. There were people here, people like me and Tanya, who were relatively normal and just wanting to experience an evening away from home. People who . . .

And then I heard it. The distinct, split-second crack of a whip. I was sure the sound wasn't as loud as it seemed to be, but I swore I could feel the vibration of it rock my head. My stomach churned immediately

"Bella?" Tanya had been trying to pull me forward, but I was so sure I was going to vomit that I didn't dare take another step forward. In fact, I had actually managed to turn around in a subconscious act to bolt up the stairs. I was also bent forward by the waist, almost completely in half. One of my hands was palm flat against the wall and if Tanya wasn't vice-gripping my other one, it too would have pressed up against the other wall.

Jasper's scent. That weird combination of mint, cologne, and fruit, permeated the small stairway. Tanya let go of my hand and I collapsed forward, resting on my hands and knees on the steps, an awkward position that left me feeling vulnerable. Especially with Jasper's predatory scent, something that both made me want to curl into him and run, screaming, enveloped me in the mostly darkness.

"Breathe, Bella," he said. I could feel the heat of his breath on the back of my neck and though it was warm in this makeshift dungeon, the familiar goosebumps ran a pattern across my arms. I watched them come to life, angry with myself for allowing the sound of my name leaving his mouth to cause such an innate reaction.

"I'm fine," I spat, but though my voice was strong, a long trail of spit rolled down my bottom lip. I wiped it away.

"Be careful, darlin'," he said in a clipped but gentle tone. At least I though it was gentle. But then he said, "I would hate for you to embarrass me so completely that this remains your only experience in a real dungeon."

The subtle barb at Emmett and the thick threat hardened my resolve.

Games? I could play games.

"I'm _fine_," I said. And to prove it, I straightened myself up as quickly as I could. But I hadn't taken into consideration exactly where Jasper was positioned behind me. I distinctly felt his large, Texas-inspired belt buckle pressed against my lower back. To steady himself, or me, or whatever, he wrapped his arms across my chest until his hands reached my opposite shoulders. We both rocked backwards once and he let out a whoosh of breath as he steadied us.

Games. Before he had the opportunity to let go of me, I leaned forward a bit and pressed my ass into his groin with enough force to leave him wondering whether it was purposeful, but not enough to cause the possible, inner cat bitch in Tanya to rear its head.

Well, that had been my intention. But before Jasper let go, he leaned forward so closely that when he spoke, I could feel the soft tingle of his lips graze my ear.

"This is a dangerous game you're playing, Bella."

I almost screamed the word "contraction!" before his sentiment took hold of my consciousness and instead I nodded. He let go and I turned and followed him down the stairs.

As it goes, all I could think was _Jasper: 1, Bella: 0._

Tanya was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, chatting with an imposing looking man wearing all black and holding a clipboard. And Jasper turned her face upward and kissed her, hard, for a long moment before looking at the man.

"Sam," he said, smiling and holding out his hand.

"Jasper," Sam said, taking Jasper's hand and clapping him on the shoulder. "It's been too long, my friend."

"Yes, it has." Jasper look towards the far wall and I followed his gaze to see a long row of different piece of furniture; benches, tables, and odd cross-looking apparatuses. He bowed his head towards it. "How's things going here?"

I frowned at his language. Jasper, so poised and so awkwardly formal was throwing contractions all over the goddamn place. Games, games, games. With no small level of restraint, I kept myself from rolling my eyes.

"Ah, man, sorry to say, but there's a bit of a wait," Sam said, not at all sounding sorry. "Weirdly busy for a Thursday night."

"No problem, I have all night."

They shook hands again and Sam walked away, jotting something down on his clipboard as he moved. Jasper turned back to Tanya.

"Tanya, it is time to behave."

She flashed him an enigmatic smiled before bowing her head. "Yes, Master."

"Bella," Jasper said. "While we are here, Tanya is allowed to do only what is asked of her. No more, no less. She is not to speak unless directly spoken to. Even to you." I nodded, the embarrassment of losing still raw and my annoyance at Jasper's newfound street talk made me feel suddenly exhausted. Tanya's head remained bowed, but the side of her mouth twitched upward. "Good. Tanya, do you have to use the restroom?"

"Yes, Master."

"Please do so. And wash your hands well afterwards. Bella and I will be at the bar."

She scampered off and I watched her go. When I turned back to Jasper, he had a small smile and was extending his hand towards me. I balked a little and his smile vanished.

"As you wish," he said.

We walked towards the bar and he seated himself on a barstool, throwing his duffle bag on the seat next to him. I took his other side and was immediately met with the foulest mixed scent of cologne and body odor. The man next to me, clearly drenched in both cologne and copious amounts of sweat, was nursing a drink and staring idly around the room.

"Bella, would you like a beverage?" Jasper said.

"Um, sure. A beer?"

For a moment, his eyes flashed and a cold expression made his eyes squint. "There is absolutely no alcohol consumption here, nor should there ever be during playtime."

I stared blankly at him for a second. "Because I've been to one of these before and I totally know the rules." I paused so he could properly absorb my sarcasm. "Cola."

He got me my drink and we sat in silence. Me, sneaking peaks towards him out of the corner of my eye and him pointedly ignoring me. Soon, someone began chatting with him and left. Then another person, then a third. I expected, at some point, for Jasper to introduce me, but when it didn't happen I began to feel spiteful.

So I turned to the man next to me. I extended my hand. "Bella."

The man's gaze flitted to my throat and he smiled. "Well, hello there."

I raised my drink in acknowledgment. "So what do you do?"

The man began to speak and I cursed myself for being so childish.

". . . but whether the Colts actually win is another story," he said and I laughed loudly. Too loudly, but I saw Jasper turn in his chair in my periphery.

I squared my shoulders towards the nasty man. "I've never really watched sports, but if I had to choose, I'd say I was a Seahawks fan."

The man scoffed. "Don't get me started on the Seahawks."

"I guess I'm just partial to Washington," I said and he laughed.

"You're not from around here?"

"No," I said. "Grew up in Arizona and Washington. Moved here a few years ago."

"You get into a nasty fight or something?"

I touched the sheath on my nose. "Angry ex," I said and he frowned. "But it's all good."

He nodded slowly and opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly.

At the same moment, I felt hot breath and smelled ripened fruit from behind me. "Hello, Bella," Jasper said, breathing in my ear. His torso was pressed against my back so closely he was able to extend his hand around me towards the man. "I don't think we've met."

The man took his hand and frowned. "Are you here with her?"

"No," I said quickly. "He's here with someone else. He's just a friend."

The man's smile returned. "Well, Bella and I were just talking about sports."

"Scintillating," Jasper said in a voice thick with boredom. "How are you, Bella?"

I waved him away but the gesture caused my shoulder to rock back and the moment I touched him, a swarm of angry goose bumps trailed over my arm. In a gesture not completely void of petulance, I crossed both over my chest. I turned back to the man.

"So, what else do you like?"

The man leaned in further towards me and even went so far as to swivel around in his barstool. His knees brushed the side of my thigh and I shuddered. The shudder was violent and with Jasper as intimately close to me as he was, I was sure he felt it.

He bowed his head until I could feel the edges of his lips on my ear. "This is not a vanilla bar, _Bella_. And if he has not come with someone, I suggest you bid him farewell."

A warm bubbling feeling started in my stomach, like warm pop fizzling right after opening. I turned my head towards him, enough to let his lips actually touch my ear and said in an equally serious and angry voice, "Thank you, _Jasper_, but I'm fine."

Vaguely, I wondered how my breath smelled.

Jasper chuckled and pulled away and just like that I felt exposed and irrational. Well, for fuck's sake, of course I should heed Jasper's obnoxious warning. This wasn't exactly my element.

I turned to allow Jasper the grace of my apology, but he was already speaking with someone else. When I turned back to the man, he was gone.

I huffed and took a long sip of my drink.

It was weird, being so close to Jasper. With Edward, with him I had this weird, electrical pulse that vibrated and moved in response to our emotions. But with Jasper, I just felt like my body was on fire. Prickling and hot with inaction and something a little more malevolent.

I kind of wanted to cry.

And just like that, I felt Jasper move closer to me before I saw him. I turned to him and he was staring intently across the bar, so I followed his gaze. Tanya was weaving her way through the crowd, hunching her torso over to make herself as small as possible. She didn't really have an expression on her face, but I felt Jasper tense besides me.

For a reason I couldn't articulate, I grinded my teeth together.

Tanya was panting when she reached us and she stopped between Jasper's open legs and bowed her head.

"Please, Tanya," he said. "Sit with me."

She did and curled herself into his chest. I knew my eyes should be misting with the sight, of two sweet lovers embraced in such an unholy way. But really, I just wanted to tip them off the barstool.

"Please tell me if something is the matter," Jasper said.

"Rosalie is in the bathroom."

"Ooh," I said, perking up immediately. "I should say 'hi' or something."

Tanya turned to me and gave me a pleading look.

"Um," I said, "uh, is there something you want to tell me?"

"Well, she was talking about you."

"Oh," I said.

"She's . . . well, she's really upset with you."

I looked at Tanya's face. Her eyes were wide and turned down at the outer edges, clearly in acknowledgment of the sadness of Rosalie's behavior. But for as sad as her words and eyes looked, the rest of her face was calm.

"What?" I said. "Why? What the hell did I do?"

"Well, she said that she hates that you took Jasper away from her."

"Took Jasper . . . ?" I looked imploringly at Jasper, expecting my own confused expression to be reflected back to me. But there was no widening of the eyes or furrowing brow or small frown to suggest he didn't understand. He was giving me an . . . _expectant_ look. The one Rosalie and Emmett give to me when they expected a certain reaction from me about something they already knew.

I narrowed my eyes.

Now his expression did change and it was surprise.

"You're a coward," I said quietly when he looked at my face again. So quietly, I pretty much mouthed it.

He considered my statement for a moment before a self-defacing smile crossing his face. He hunched his shoulders forward and back, the smallest sort of shrug. Probably so he didn't disturb Tanya.

I waited for the anger. For the furious derision and annoyed contempt to make my chest bubble. But instead I felt that exhaustion. That endless, shoulder-slumping exhaustion. The exhaustion that comes with finally accepting that your little child is a fucking brat and no matter what you do, he will always be a brat. That no amounts of yelling or cursing or pleading will change his behavior. Because you had let him do it for too long now. There wasn't really any going back.

I looked at Jasper.

It was official, I had lost.

The next thing I knew, I was standing next to a shirt-less Jasper. Tanya was strapped, naked, to one of the benches along the wall in the dungeon under the most complex and intricate contraption of purple and black ropes.

A small crowd had gathered around the three of us as Jasper had stripped Tanya and brought the ropes out of his duffle bag. He also produced a ball gag, but put it away when Tanya shook her head a little.

I had tried on two occasions to slip away from them. The first time, I decided just to make a run for it, but found a solid wall of people behind me and my endeavors fell short when someone (jokingly) said, "Whoa lady, watch yourself." Of course, it caught Jasper's attention instantly and I was shamed into returning to stand next to the duffle bag.

Tanya was lying on her stomach, he knees bent and pulled underneath her so her ass was tucked up far into the air. For a moment, I was embarrassed to look at her, but was then enthralled by the sort of bored, sort of excited look on everyone else's face and felt it was probably appropriate to share. I even managed to surreptitiously check out the front of some of the guys' pants, but no one seemed to be rocking a hard on. I shrugged and continued to stare at Tanya's ass, my expression blank.

The second time I had tried to sneak away, Jasper seemed to have gained a sixth sense of some kind and foiled my plan by whipping his head to look at me before I had even attempted a maneuver in any direction. My skin burned.

"Bella," Jasper said and I looked at him without moving my head. "Would you like to count?"

"Um, sure."

He pulled a whip out of the duffle bag and unclasped the top from the base before waving it in slight circles to unravel it. I watched the tail of the whip uncoil, moving my eyes with each successive rotation. Instead of a thin shred of leather, a small feather was attached to the rope, held in place by a small, black bead. My heart rate picked up but at the same time I was met with a sense of ease.

Emmett's words pounded into my brain. _Let him do what he does best: fix people._

"Tanya."

"Yes, Master?"

"Where are we?"

"Green."

"How are your fingers and toes?"

She wiggled them accordingly. "Good, Master."

"If you are uncomfortable at any time, you may speak."

"Yes, Master."

"Fifteen lashes, Tanya."

Jasper hunched his shoulders together, as though preparing himself to flex his muscles, before rolling them back. He made long, circling gestures with his arm, stretching the muscles. Everything about him screamed _sexy. _His compact, lithe muscles; his long, lean neck, his fucking blonde ringlets. And it wasn't just sexiness his body screamed, it was regal-ness, too. And a little arrogance.

He raised the whip up once and brought it down with sharp _crack_ that didn't echo as loudly here as it did in his playroom. I still jumped, but that was hardly the point.

The first crack landed.

"One," I said.

Then the second. And then the third. The fourth, the fifth, the sixth.

And then my mind began to wander.

I was fascinated. Not only because Jasper was a fucking demon brandishing that whip, but because of his focus. He wasn't punishing Tanya; there weren't any red spots on her cheeks like there had been in his playroom. No. Instead, he was flicking the rip somewhere below her ass. Somewhere between her legs. Somewhere . . .

Oh my fucking god.

I blushed red hot. And then I looked at Tanya's face. She had a controlled expression, but there was a definite upward curve of her lips.

Holy mother of Jesus, _he was getting her off_.

I expected to feel dirty and disgusted, but instead I had to force myself not to rub my thighs together in response. Jasper had begun to sweat a little and the thin sheen of liquid made the muscles in his throat expand and contract more obviously in the glare of the overhead lights.

_Yep, _I thought after a moment of assessment. _I'm about to cum in my panties._

"Bella?"

I blinked and swallowed, hard. "Y-Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

Jasper had stopped whipping Tanya and was looking at me, with his whipping arm poised up and behind his head. He had a slightly pained expression.

"Ten?" I hedged.

He chuckled softly, condescendingly, and shook his head. "Thirteen."

He cracked the whip again.

"Fourteen." I felt like all saliva had been drained from my mouth.

And again.

"Fifteen."

The spectators clapped appreciatively and they receded back into the depths of the club as quickly as they had come. Jasper untied Tanya and rested against the edge of the bench, holding her curled in his arms. He was whispering something to her and she had a lazy, sloppy smile on her pretty face as she listened to him speak. Then her smiled faded, and she looked over at me, before turning her head back and burrowing it into Jasper's body.

I remained by the duffle bag, my hands tapping the outsides of my thighs in a mottled beat.

I wondered absently if Tanya thought Jasper smelled like fruit, too.


	18. Day 6, Part 1: Tanya's Demise

**Day 6: Part 1**

**Tanya's Demise**

The next morning, Tanya was in a shit mood.

Yes, okay, the ride back from the dungeon last night had been awkward, but it was Tanya's fucking fault. She had insisted on squeezing herself into the front seat, even after Jasper had shot her more than one derisive look. But after all that fuss, and when she was finally up there next to the king, she had curled herself away from his body and pressed herself against the car door. The further we went towards the house, the quieter she got, until Jasper kept stealing confused glances at her. I found the whole thing fascinating and since I lacked any apparent tact, I had asked her about it the second she and I were alone. She had burst into tears and ran towards her bedroom.

I spent the whole night thinking Jasper might kill me in my sleep.

Currently, Tanya was in the kitchen clanging around pots and pans, opening drawers and shutting them much too intensely, and just over-all being loud and obnoxious. I spent a few minutes standing in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, watching the different parts of her body jiggle and shake as she made jerky movements around the kitchen. Every few moments, she'd stop what she was doing and give a little discontented sigh before starting up again.

What I had meant to say to her was something along the lines of, "Hey, sorry you're in a weird mood, but I'm mighty hungry and would you mind so much as to make me a little food?"

Instead, what I said was, "I'm hungry."

She slammed a utensils drawer and, without turning to me, said, "There's leftovers in the fridge. I'm sure you know where the microwave is."

I paused. "Is this like, a test or something?"

"What?"

"A test? Like, _Bella knows the House Rules but let's see if we can trick her in to breaking them_. Because, you know, that wouldn't be very nice."

Tanya sighed and turned to me.

"No, Bella, it's not a test."

"Right. So what's the problem?"

She sneered. "There's no problem."

"Clearly, there is."

"There's no fucking problem, Bella!" Tanya cried. "Jesus, if you want some fucking food, I'll make you some fucking food!"

But she didn't move. Instead, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at me. I stared back.

"Tanya," I said. "What's wrong?"

I wasn't sure what I was expecting her to say. Probably something I had done last night that pissed her off. Perhaps Jasper had let it slip that I'd pressed my ass into his groin in a feeble attempt to get him to feel me up last night. Perhaps one of the snide remarks I'd made about Tanya over the past few days had wormed their way from Jasper's brain to this mouth and he had ratted me out to the blonde bimbo. Maybe my devil-may-care sickly sweet sarcasm had finally grated on her until she found it necessary to stomp around and pout like a two-year-old about it.

She pressed her lips together and kept staring at me.

"Is it about the food?" I asked. "Because, you know, it's your house and if you want me to reheat something. . . ."

She shook her head.

"Is it about me starting the shower for myself this morning? I'm sorry, but I forgot to get you."

She shook her head again.

"Did you misplace dinner?" Shake. "Are you dying of some incurable disease?" Shake. "Are you really part of a Cobra Strike Team and your next assignment is to take out Jasper?" Shake.

Then she frowned. The frown, that delicate gesture that just barely turned the edges of her lips downward, reminded me of last night. In my mind's eye, I could see Tanya curled up on Jasper's lap after he had whipped her. He had been petting her hair and she had been smiling stupidly, but then he'd said something – something I hadn't heard – and she had looked at me with that same delicate frown.

I raised my chin. "It's about last night. At the club. Jasper said something to you."

She closed her eyes slowly and lowered her head. A half-nod.

I contemplated this for a moment. And it was then that I'd made the decision that would further impact the rest of my life as a sub, though I couldn't have possibly known it then. I had been confused by Jasper's sudden, more physical attention last night; the close contact both in the stairwell of the club and the way he'd casually pressed the entire length of his torso against my back while cautioning me about the creepy dude at the bar. The way I'd sworn I could smell his scent the entire night, despite the heavy cigarette smoke and the smell that comes with dozens of bodies crammed into a space not suitable to hold them all.

"It's about me, isn't it?" I asked.

Tanya nodded her head but before I could further ask her anything, she began to shake it viciously.

"Don't Bella, I can't. I can't say anymore."

And then she burst into tears and the sound made me want to scratch my eyeballs out.

"Jesus, Tanya, don't _cry_."

I had cased the house as stealthily as I could this morning (and, by a non-coincidence, had stumbled in the east wing corridor and broken a vase, the remnants of which were now in a tidy pile behind the pedestal it had rested on), trying to figure out whether Jasper was home. I hadn't found him, but the sound of Tanya bawling, her wide eyes mashed up into two mismatched slits, still made me nervous.

"Is Jasper home?"

She wailed harder.

"Fuck, Tanya, stop it. Jasper's going to kick my ass if he found out I made his sub cry."

That stopped her. She puffed out her chest and frowned again, but this time the expression was ugly. There was nothing delicate or soft about the narrowing of her eyes or the tightened line of her lips. She looked like the perfect caricature of herself

"_It's_ _your fucking fault_!" she spat. She took a step towards me and I took one back. She raised her hand, her fingered cramped together around her palm in a way that made her entire hand white, and shook it at me. "Who the fuckare you? Where did you _come_ from? How dare you take a step inside the house that belongs to me – " She slammed both of her palms against her chest, the gesture sending a cascade of jiggling flesh down to her thighs. "- and take my Dom _away from me_?"

My lips parted and I heard the wet suctioning of my mouth as it separated. "_What_?" I asked. "Tanya, what the fuck are you talking about? I don't want to be Jasper's sub. I don't want to be anybody's sub right now, I just want to get over these fucking panic attacks! Have I given you _any_ indication that I want to steal Jasper from you?"

She shook her head, not as an answer to my question, but out of a frustration. "That doesn't matter."

"What? What do you mean that doesn't matter? Of course it matters, you idiot. If I don't want to be Jasper's sub, then Jasper doesn't get me as a sub." I clicked my tongue. "And, just so you know, I find Jasper really creepy. And, since we're both being assholes, I am embarrassed for you."

She snapped her eyes to me without moving her head. "Embarrassed?"

I smiled. "You know that time when I was over and disappeared during the night, only to return yesterday?" She nodded hesitantly. "Do you know why I left?"

I didn't know where the viciousness and spitefulness was coming from. A part of me, albeit an impossibly small part, felt nauseated by the very idea of how absolutely and inexplicably cruel I was being. And worse, that this was only the beginning of what would ultimately destroy Tanya. But the steady pounding of my heart in my chest and this awful, wicked grin I couldn't manage to shake let me know it was right. This was good. This, this burning need to _break_ Tanya, was going to better my stay here. But the reason eluded me.

"I left," I said, drawing the sentence out, "because I caught you two fucking."

Her lips tightened further.

"And when I saw you, Jasper saw me." I lowered my voice. "And he let me watch until he came."

I watched her face. First, it went blank and the muscles in her clenched jaw loosened and then went slack. Then her eyes darted to the left of my face and then the ground and then back to me. I felt my ears pull back as I smiled further. I felt disgusting, deplorable, like an abhorrent replica of myself.

Then Tanya shrieked. She griped her hair at its base and pulled tightly on the strands. The movement reminded me of Edward and before my body was able to register the nausea, I bent over and vomited on the floor.

"You stupid bitch," Tanya snapped. To my surprise, however, she didn't rush at me and punch me in my fucking face like any other self-respecting person would have. Instead, she hovered over my bent form until the shadow of her head perfectly encased the bile on the floor. "Master will be thrilled to hear this, I'm sure."

And then, with the rage of a thousand women behind her, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousand, of scorned past lovers and past lives. The rage of the inexcusable missteps perpetrated against these women and the unyielding realization that only comes when the inevitable finally occurs, Tanya spoke the words that would end her.

"And to think, Jasper wanted to make you his sub."


	19. Day 6, Part 2: Revenge Isn't Sweet

_A/N: Okay. The updating has been dismal. Between law school and two jobs . . . I keep forgetting. But no more. Like, three a week. For realz. Though we're more than halfway through the story, so it'll all end quickly. Apologies and for those that stuck with me: you rock. Fucking hard._

**Day 6: Part 2**

**Revenge Isn't Nearly As Sweet As They Say**

This was not good.

No, this was awful.

Awful and exhilarating and joyous.

Not because Jasper wanted me at his sub; the notion was . . . unnerving.

But because I was finally able to exact my revenge.

Tanya had collapsed on the floor and commenced blubbering, so panicked and distraught over the idea that she had betrayed Jasper that she was literally unable to move.

Which provided me with the most ideal set of circumstances.

I promised her she wouldn't get into trouble and asked where Jasper was. I expected resistance and screaming and something more aggressive, but she just pointed and mumbled something about the den in the north wing.

So I went.

I felt amazing.

It took me longer than I'd hoped to find the den, having explored very little of the sprawling mansion outside of my normal daily routine. And with it, my anger ebbed and flowed in a steady rhythm. But my mania, that special emotion that kept my heart pounding and my head feel light, continued to push me towards him.

And when I found him, the ebbing returned and bloomed into all-out rage.

I opened the door of the den and was rewarded with the loud thwacking sound it made as it hit the adjacent wall.

"Jasper," I breathed.

His legs were propped up on a dark wooden desk and he was reclining backwards in a chair I was sure cost more than I had ever collectively earned in my life. One of his arms, in a dark button-up made of some silky material, was up and behind his neck. The other held a cell phone to his head. When I approached the desk, he took the phone from his ear and waved it at me for a moment before replacing it.

"Yeah, I'm definitely not leaving."

I wasn't sure whether it was my expression or the dominating tone, but he looked at me for a moment before wishing the caller all the best and hanging up.

He dropped the phone on the desk and picked up a loose piece of paper. He began to read it before he spoke.

"I hope, for your sake, this is important, Bella."

I smiled that malevolent smile. "That's funny. Because I hope for your sake that what Tanya said in the kitchen isn't true."

Unfazed, he put the piece of paper down and picked up another one. I was close enough to touch him and I ripped the paper out of his hand. It tore a clean line and only a scrap was still held between the finger and thumb of his right hand. He carefully put the piece on the desk and looked up at me.

His lips curled upward. "And what did Tanya speak of to you?"

I wanted to scream. That grin, that one disgustingly simple expression that said everything any word he spoke could not, that held such complete and utter contempt for my existence, made me want to scream. Made me want to tear out his throat with my own teeth and jam the remnants of his jugular into his mouth and laugh as he choked on them. Made me want to hate him.

I froze, the contradiction of my words acutely painful as I replayed them.

_Made me want to hate him._

I knew the expression my face held. It was the one that Emmett used when he had committed some massive relationship faux pas with Rosalie. That "oh, shit" look. The look that conceded the fight for him and was the definitive end to whatever argument preceded it.

It was the look of defeat.

_Made me want to hate him._

Because, at this moment, I wasn't sure I did.

"You fucking asshole, Jasper!" I cried, slamming my fist on the table. I had to regain control and not let my internal monologue dictate the next few minutes of conversation. I had to do this, I had to get out of this fucking mansion with its ostentatious furniture and thousands of rooms. The unnecessarily expensive cars in the garage and the endless assortments of cutlery and foods in languages I'd never learn to know. I had to get out of here so I didn't lose myself in all of that.

I had to go.

He cocked an eyebrow but otherwise remained impassive.

"You can't just _decide_ to make someone your sub, you presumptuous twit. And you can't tell your current sub you're doing it without informing the other person."

Now he froze. The beginnings of a smile fell from the corners of his mouth and his face became rigid.

"I see," he said after a long moment, but said nothing else.

"That's it? 'I see?' What kind of bullshit response is that?" I was in control again. I leaned forward on the desk, my fingers splayed painfully on its smooth surface. "Let me tell you a few things about Jasper. This is a guy, a self-assuming, pretentious dickfuck that preys on naïve subs who have a serious psychological condition that makes it impossible for them to function normally. He has devised an incalculably helpful set of methods that treats and then controls this psychological condition so the subs are again able to function in the outside world. And what I've seen, since I've spent a lot of time with Alice, is the depravity of the relationships you hold with your subs."

His eyes narrowed at her name and I laughed.

"Yes," I said. "You remember Alice, I'm sure. She's a devastated wreck because of you and while she no longer has panic attacks, she sure as hell isn't over the awful way you treated her." I cocked my head out the open door of his den. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "And Tanya, well I think we both know that Tanya's a little . . . stupid."

I waited for the expression on his face to harden, like it had over Alice. But when nothing changed, when he gave no indication that I had offended him, I grinned.

"Well, I must say that it's nice to have some sort of common ground with you." I paused and pulled a contemplative face. "The difference here Jasper, is that regardless of how badly I want a Dom, and how badly I want to get over this panic that absolutely controls my life, I would never let someone as disgusting and condescending and manipulative as you ever help me succeed in overcoming it. Because you disgust me. And I would rather choke on my own vomit during an episode than accept whatever it is you have to offer. Because knowing that you helped me accomplish anything in my life would both taint it and leave me feeling dirty."

He stared at me for a long moment after I finished. I tried to control my breathing and the lightheaded feeling that was making the room seem brighter than it was. He looked down at his desk and while the movement wasn't intentionally submissive, considering his chest puffed at the same time, a small part of me felt victorious.

_Made me want to hate him. _

I clenched my teeth.

"Enough," he finally whispered.

"Yeah, I'm already done," I said in a disinterested tone.

Then, many things happened at once. In the same instant, he slammed both of his palms on the desk and stood up so quickly that his chair rolled from under him and crashed into the wall. I took a step back the second his hands landed and at the same moment, Tanya appeared in the doorway. By the time Jasper had rounded the desk and began to stalk towards me, Tanya had disappeared from the threshold.

For every step he took towards me, I took a corresponding step back. Step for step until my back was pressed against the rough, uneven texture of a wall. My palms were flat against it, my head turned to the side. I tried to close my eyes, to let him hit my face without tensing and making the blow more painful, but was too afraid to even blink. I could hear the soft click of his expensive shoes on the wood floor and could smell his scent, a mix of sweetness, mint, and something a little more depraved as he approached.

On the wall to my left, where my head was turned, hung three different college diplomas in thick wood frames. On each was Jasper's name, the name of the corresponding colleges, and the degrees earned. Two of the diplomas, his undergraduate degree and his Ph.D./MBA degree, were from colleges far on the east coast. The third, his law degree, was from a school in England.

_Made me want to hate him._

"Look at me," he breathed.

I shook my head.

"Look . . . at . . . me."

So I did. He looked otherworldly. His eyes, usually a dark gray color, looked black in the shadows created by the closeness of our bodies. The fire, the absolute rage in them caused a rupture of goosebumps across my arms and up towards my neck. Despite the heat of his breath and the angry fever of my own body, the goosebumps spread and remained erect on my body.

"Hit me," I whispered. "And then let me leave."

His mouth didn't move, but his eyes widened with amusement and his ears pulled back a little. I sneered at him.

"Hit you, Bella? Now, why would I want to do that?" His eyes flitted to my turned neck, noticing the goosebumps, and this time he did laugh. "Did I do that to you?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said you made my skin crawl."

"I see. Is there anything else I mistakenly do to your body?"

My palm cracked against the side of his face before I realized I'd moved it. All hints of amusement vanished from his face.

"Be careful, darlin'," he hissed. "I can do you more harm by my words than any physical act you can take against my body."

"Fuck you," I said and watched in amused disbelief as a fleck of spit left my mouth and landed above his upper lip.

With a quick movement, he kicked aside one of my ankles and I spread my legs instinctually. He pressed his hip against my torso and pushed my opposite shoulder to wall with his hand, successfully pinning me with his body.

My heart was thumping against my ribs with such tenacity I wildly thought that it might crack through the bone. A fever, hotter than anything I'd felt, spread through my body until every inch of it was wet with sweat.

I took a deep breath through my nose, preparing to scream, but the moment I opened his mouth, he cupped his free hand over my lips and my scream was muffled to the point of ineffectiveness. His pinky pressed painfully against the sheath over my nose and it was so acute my eyes watered immediately.

At the sight of my tears, Jasper's face morphed from a controlled anger into full-blown rage. His lips curled back over his teeth in a silent snarl and when the tears finally began to run ragged streaks down my cheeks, he pulled his hand away from my mouth.

I built up another breath, ready to scream, but stopped when his lips came crashing down to mine.


	20. Day 6, Part 3: Fire and Compromise

**Day 6: Part 3**

**Fire and Compromise and Jesus, Tanya's Obnxious**

_Oh my._

It was the first complete and vaguely coherent phrase that flitted through my mind.

_This isn't right _was the second, but in an instant it was pushed down by the third.

_Jasper._

My instincts demanded I run, forcefully push him away from me and break this unwarranted kiss. But two equally important measures prevented me from doing so.

First, I was still completely incapacitated; his body, pressed so closely to mine, prevented me from even considering the use of physical force. I could feel the tightness of his lithe body and the contractions and then relaxations of his muscles as he moved around me.

And second, the kiss had set my body on fire.

A deep growl began to build somewhere in Jasper's chest and with this delicious and all-consuming closeness, I could feel actually feel the muted vibration of it.

"Kiss me," he demanded, his words sounding like a hiss as they exited what little space was left between his clenched teeth. "Kiss me."

And I did. Against my perplexed mind, my instinctual repulsion for him, and my traitorously calm heart, I did. And I cried.

This man, tied to the earth by all that was human, and who lived in a perpetual state of manipulation and condescension, was moving his mouth over mine in such a controlled and exact manner that I couldn't be sure whether he was kissing me or the line of subs before me. As our lips moved together, and as the hot tears continued to run delicate streaks down my face, I found my place in the world.

Emmett, sweet and carefree and so loving, was too practical and too easily counted me as his little sister, would leave me wanting. James, while more domineering and more in tune with my more intimate needs, was too aggressive and semi-violent to ever been the stable Dom I required. But Jasper, intelligent and unbelievably sexy, was deplorable in the most accurate sense of the world. He was an asshole. An arrogant and self-entitled bastard who lived only for himself.

But he could stop three years worth of panic attacks.

And that's exactly what I needed.

"Jesus, Bella," Jasper groaned against my mouth. I imagined my name as a ball of air collecting in his lungs and rolling forward slowly across his tongue and through his lips.

He shifted his body so he could press the entirety of his chest against mine. He dropped my arms and I was aware of my slenderness when he encircled my waist with his. Obediently, I wound my arms around his neck in response and was met with the passionate moan of sheer joy as I toyed with the soft curls at the nape of his check. I lifted the back of his shirt so I could feel the taunt muscles in his back. His mouth tasted both bitter and sugary, like semi-sweet chocolate and cream. He brought both hands to my face, gripping my cheeks between his hands. I was momentarily shocked by the softness of them. I expected the same rough, used hands that his brother had. But that was the difference, I supposed. Edward, while a keen intellectual, still worked regularly with his hands. And Jasper, even more of an intellectual, retained and exampled his intelligence only through his mind.

Jasper's deft fingers reached up the hemline of my shirt until his hand was completely under the clasp of my bra. He pulled me to him and it was then that I completely gave in.

It had never quite felt like this; I'd never felt quite this way when kissing a man before. The fevered passion, the angry groping and kneading of flesh, everything. It was both uncomfortable and exhilarating. I thought of both James and Edward as Jasper ran his tongue against my lower lip and I opened my mouth for him. It must have been a mix of facets: the untouchableness of him, the hate that poured from every pore of my body, and the constant fever I felt spreading through me like a sickness.

Kissing Edward was good. Everything about Edward was good. But kissing Jasper made me feel like the entire world was on fire . . . like everything was going to get caught up in the flames and burn right along with me.

I was so lost in the moment, desperate to feel this unreachable man close to me, to want me. And so it took Tanya actually speak or me to realize she was there.

"Jasper," she whispered.

I pulled away from him and looked towards the open door of the den.

"Tanya," I said in a quiet breath.

"Jasper?" she repeated.

With my arms still around his waist, he exhaled his breath in a short breath and turned his head towards the ceiling. "Tanya."

"Y-Yes, Master?"

"Please wait for me in the bedroom. I will be there in approximately five minutes."

I waited for anger to take hold of her expression. I wanted her to be angry; to denounce Jasper and kick him in the back of knees for being such an insufferable asshole. I wanted to watch him fall and twist in agony as she exacted the revenge he deserved to get. In the same instant, I wanted her to forgive me for taking away the only source of comfort she had.

But I couldn't convey any of that with a single look, so instead I only wore a mask of neutrality. After a few seconds of a blank stare in our direction, she turned and headed away from the den.

Jasper looked down at me.

"I want to be your sub," I said.

"I already have a sub."

"I want to be your second sub."

"I do not need nor do I want another sub."

"But you said – "

"I just said everything you need to know."

I squared my shoulders. "I don't exist well in limbo, Jasper. Make up your mind."

We stared at each other for a moment before he unwound his arms from my waist. He took a step back and righted the hemline of his shirt and smoothed the fabric of his pants. I watched him silently as he rounded his desk and picked up his phone. He sat down in the leather desk chair and reclined slightly while punching in some numbers on the phone. He opened his desk drawer and took out a legal pad and a pen.

As he waited for whomever he was calling to pick up, he finally looked at me. He raised a single eyebrow, as though surprised I was still here, before returning his gaze to his legal pad and making a flitting motion with his hand.

He was dismissing me.

And I'd never wanted anything more than to stay in that room with him.

I slept for the rest of the day.

Well, actually, I did more staying in my room than actually sleeping. I took two showers, the first to wash myself, and the second just to spite Tanya.

When I was done showering, I went into the absurdly large closet and ripped all the clothing off their hangers. Then I felt stupid, so I spent two hours picking them back up and trying to remember where they all went.

"Ugh, more tweed?" I mumbled, tossing aside a disaster of a jacket that included hobo patches on the backs of the elbows and a series of buttons so large they covered the palm on my hands.

I spent one hour flipping through the television channels, trying to find something, anything, to watch, and settled on a judge show that was just interesting enough to warrant my attention.

After that, I spent an hour delicately painting each fingernail a horrendous shades of pink and red, making sure that none of them matched and they all looked ridiculous.

Then I decided that I was bored of being an insolent five-year-old when my stomach began rumbling. So I stalked, cat-like, down the third floor corridor until I reached Jasper's room. No noises were coming from it, so I stealthily tiptoed my way down both flights of steps until I reached the living room. No noise. I sneaked past it, making sure to hide in the shadows despite how brilliantly bright it was outside, until I reached the kitchen. I crouched, like the lithe cat I was, and peered around the wall. No one.

I straightened myself and took a few steps in the kitchen . . . only to find Jasper standing, with a cup of coffee in one hand and his cell phone in the other, staring at me as I entered.

"It was a valiant effort," he said, without amusement.

"I'm only a part-time ninja," I said. "Out of practice. You know how that goes."

He bowed his head towards a folded note propped up against the wicker fruit basket on the counter. In tidy handwriting, my name was printed across it in bright blue ink.

"You can't just tell me what it says?" I asked. "You're really going to stand there and watch me read it?"

He didn't say anything, just continued to look at me, so I sighed dramatically and picked it up.

_Bella,_

_Tanya and I are going out for the evening and then out of town for tomorrow. _

_The house is yours to use as you please._

_The House Rules still apply._

"That was a mouthful," I said, nodding. "God, I already forgot what it says. Good thing you wrote it down."

He took a slow sip from his mug, his eyes and forehead far above the lip of the cup, and commenced staring.

I took a deep breath and puffed out my cheeks as I exhaled. "Well, this is awkward," I said. I thought briefly of trying to stare him down, but, completely disinterested in the thought, just shrugged and said, "So is it now we have the super awkward conversation about what happened this morning or is it something that we ignore for a while, while having forced, polite chit-chat whenever we run into each other?"

He didn't respond, so I went outside.

I lit a cigarette and felt hot under the weight of my jacket. A fire, that same fire that enveloped my body as it had earlier this morning, made me want to run back into the house and suction myself to his body.

I rubbed my legs together as my vag began to respond to the thought.

"Not now," I hissed at it. "Behave."

My phone began to ring and I spent a few long seconds trying to dig it out of one of the thousands of pockets of my jacket. I looked at the LCD screen.

Tanya.

I opened it, shut it, and put it back in my pocket.

"That was quite rude."

I sighed and pressed my head to my knees, burrowing my face in my jeans. "If you've come outside to stare at me, Jasper, just leave. It makes me feel like I need a grown-up."

"She wishes to speak to you about what occurred this morning."

"Well, I don't really wish to speak to her," I said. "In fact, it would be just all right if we were never in the same room again."

"Bella."

"What?" I mumbled, pressing my face further into my knees. My pants smelled wonderful. Like a mix between an open field, wild flowers, and . . . cleanliness. It had been more than a while since I was aware of the state of my clothing, and a tight knot of something resembling guilt bloomed in my chest.

I lifted my head. "What, Jasper?"

"Tanya enjoys your company immensely."

"Ha," I said, reaching over towards the ashtray and tapping the top of my cigarette into it. "Please, the only thing Tanya wants right now is to rip my eyeballs out."

"Hardly," he said. He paused for a moment and, against my will, I glanced up at him. He was propped up by his shoulder against the edge of the enclosed porch, one arm holding his mug to his chest, the other crossed on top of it. He looked self-confident, as though he was both aware of how his body looked and enthralled by the vision of it in his head.

My body began to burn again.

"And?" I prompted.

"Tanya is upset, of course. And I can see you have surmised as much. However, Tanya and I spoke at length today, while you had holed yourself in your bedroom, and we have reached an understanding."

I didn't like that. "You've reached and understanding or you said what's going to happen and expect her to follow it? Because as much as I respect you blah, blah, blah, you're not the only one I live here with."

"An understanding, as I have just said."

I fought the urge to bury my face back in my jeans. "Okay. Did she, uh, well, tell you about everything we said last night? In the kitchen?"

"She did."

"So why aren't you kicking me out?"

"Do you wish to be?"

"No."

He sighed deeply, as though preparing himself for an argument. "Tanya understands your purpose here, Bella. I assured her I was uninterested in obtaining another sub." He chuckled softly. "And while I do not think she quite believes me, she has agreed to not only allow your presence here, but assured me she would maintain a healthy level of camaraderie with you. I suggest you do the same."

"Why the hell would she agree to that?" I snapped.

"Because she loves me, Bella," he said simply, and without effort.

"But – "

"And, if I am not mistaken, I believe you too once did things that seemed unnatural in order to appease the one you loved."

I clenched my teeth. "It's not the same thing," I said. "James was an aggressive asshole."

I turned to look at him. He was smiling softly.

"Right," I said. "Well I suppose Tanya and I aren't that different after all."

He bowed his head. He was amused again. "I suppose not."

I took a long, lazy drag of my cigarette and blew the smoke up at him. "So, how are things going to be different, then? Am I going to be here as a sort-of-sub? Or is it going to be just like it had been the past few days? New House Rules? Or what?"

"That, Bella, is entirely up to you."

I masturbated to the sound of his voice that night.


	21. Day 7, Part 1: Jasper Fucks Like He Acts

**Day 7: Part 1**

**Jasper Fucks Like He Acts**

The sound of tinkering woke me up. I tried to convince myself that I was still dreaming, that it was way to fucking early to be up, and that unless the tinkering sound was the alarm syste telling me the house was on fire, it was not worth waking up for.

But it didn't stop.

I bolted up in bed, promising to pound the shit out of whatever the noise was, and threw the covers away from my body, before I realized it was Jasper.

Fucking Jasper.

"I would reconsider that," he said.

Yes, I had masturbated to Jasper last night. Usually, it didn't require me to go stark naked. A simple pulling down of the panties and a lifting of the shirt, and I was as happy as the next chronic masturbator. But for some inexplicable reason, I had decided to go all out and get nude last night beforehand.

And had apparently forgotten to redress.

"Oh my god," I cried, pulling the covers back over my naked body. When everything but my head was underneath the bedding, I glared at him. "What the hell, Jasper. That's a little creepy."

He was perched in a leather armchair on the far side of my room, drinking another cup of coffee out of one of those beautiful, delicate china glasses. He took a sip and replaced it on its saucer. It tinkled.

I waited for that same urge; the one that insisted I rip the beautiful cup from his fingers and smash it onto the ground. But instead, I was kind of indifferent to the whole thing. Considering that one, Jasper had just seen me pretty much completely naked and two, I was so unfathomably excited about his presence in my bedroom that nothing else really mattered.

I almost gagged at the thought.

_Well, if last night means anything . . . _

_Means anything what?_

_I'm just saying, you might be repulsed by his demeanor, but he's a curly-headed fucking fox, so . . ._

_Right._

I flopped back down on the bed. "Can I help you with something?"

"You were speaking in your sleep and it was quite amusing," he said.

I closed my eyes.

"Would you like to know what you speak of?" he asked.

I blushed. I knew what I spoke of. There was not a single dream last night that didn't involve Jasper and me in more than a few compromising positions. The heat of it all was beginning to set my limbs on fire and I drew them close to my chest until it spread like licks of flames to my chest.

My face must have given me away. He picked himself up off the armchair and walked over to the bed. I watched his steps, just as slow and calculating as the rest of him, until he was so close that I could only see the crotch of his pants. I clenched my jaw together to keep my tongue from licking the outside of it.

He bent down.

"If there was ever a mutual feeling, Bella," he said, the hot swell of his breath spreading like a fruity, vaporous cloud over the side of my face.

I fought for a second with myself, trying to decide whether or not to suck his face off, but by the time I turned around, he had already straightened himself up and was walking towards the door.

"Tanya and I are leaving town for the evening. We will return tomorrow. Please take a shower," he said, one hand on the doorknob and his back to me, "so you can bid Tanya and I a proper farewell."

We sat staring at each other across his desk.

"Did you seriously bring me here just to talk to me?"

He was smiling. Hugely. Like, teeth and all.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing, Jasper," I said, sinking back into my chair. "But this is ridiculous."

Still smiling.

"You're making my skin crawl." I held out my arm to him, which was flush with goosebumps. "See? Remember that skin crawling thing? No lies."

Still smiling.

I leaned in towards him a little, all conspiratorial like. "Really, Jasper? _Here_?"

He pressed his lips together and gave me the vag-soaking half-smile Edward was so fond of.

"You're being dirty," I accused angrily, though it took every last bit of my will not to rub my legs together.

When had this happened exactly? When I went from being distinctly horrified by Jasper's very presence to being almost unable to resist the soft curve of his lips or the straight, strong lines of his lower jaw or . . . um.

What?

I thought back to the first time I met him, standing in Rosalie and Emmett's foyer hardly a week ago. Yeah, it was definitely then. He had been . . . beautiful, almost to the point of being indecent. I had wanted to cover his face and hide his beauty from anyone that could mar it. The first time he'd held that whip and the taut muscles of his back had stretched and retracted as he'd lifted it over his head . . . um.

What?

"Bella?"

I blinked. "Hmm?"

"What do you think?"

"I was not at all listening."

He smirked. "I can see that. Where were you, by the way? You were smiling."

I blushed.

"Ah," he said. "Well, I suppose it is beneficial that we are on the same page, then."

I cocked a dubious eyebrow. "I doubt that."

He wasn't sitting at his desk, and for that I was grateful. Aside from kind of wanting to kick him in the nuts for being such an unfortunate asshole and bringing me into this fucking _den_ again, I would have felt like I wasn't in control and I would have probably thrown up.

A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.

He was leaning against the front of his desk with his ankles crossed and his fingers curled around the edges of his desk, his palms flat. I took a moment to appreciate the tight grip of his fingers and the clean, evenly cut lines of his fingernails.

_Really, Bella? Fingernails?_

Whether it was because he caught me staring or whether it was some unconscious nervous gesture, he flexed his fingers forward and curled them back slowly, one by one. When I looked at him, he wasn't smiling, but the tight ring of light in his eyes let me know he was laughing at me.

Of course he was. Because Jasper was always aware of his body.

"Lost again?"

I blinked.

He reached behind him and produced the green folder. He opened it, folded it over, and handed it to me. I took it from him, but refused to glance at the thick piece of parchment and silver pen that were attached to the front of it.

"What is this?" I whispered, already knowing the answer.

"That, my dearest Bella, is your ticket out of limbo."

His face was expressionless; his eyebrows un-creased and his lips relaxed and unassuming.

"Where's Tanya?" I asked and immediately knew it was the worst possible thing that could have come out of my goddamn mouth.

"She drove ahead of me to the airport," he said, his tone indifferent.

Before I could stop myself, I said, "Does she know about this?"

"Not yet, but she will before we return."

"So what changed?" I asked. "Why are you taking me out of limbo?"

I tried to find an emotion. A single, definable emotion that let me know how I felt about this, that I was ready for this. Or not ready for this. Anger? No. My heart wasn't beating in any previously unknown speed. My body and hands weren't flourished with goosebumps or shaking. I was no long nauseous. I attempted a smile, but was not met with the immediate extension of whatever muscles control a smile. I tried to frown, but was met with the same resistance.

He took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. I watched his jaw clench and his teeth grind together, like he was fighting and contemplating his own body. He opened his mouth and held it unclenched for a moment, before shutting it again. Then he did the second most un-Jasper thing I had seen him do: he pushed himself off his desk and squatted down in front of my chair.

Inexplicably, I became angry. "Is it a weird feeling, to be down at my level?"

He ignored me. "Bella," he said. "If you agree to this. If you sign this contract and become my second sub, you will experience a previously unfounded side of me. But first, before you agree to my terms and live in this house side-by-side with Tanya, I insist you listen."

I kept still.

"I would like to tell you a little of my past. But first, I wish to speak to you about last night. About your insolence."

I raised the right corner of my lip in a sneer of disbelief. "My _insolence_?"

"The way you spoke to me was disrespectful."

"Absolutely," I said with emphasis, "but you are kind of an asshole and you, well, you deserved it."

He slapped his hands on the armrests. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "Yes, Bella, exactly! Please, do not, please never apologize for the words you meant to speak. Those things you said about me were true, are true."

I didn't like this. Indifferent, controlled, unemotional Jasper was not only the Jasper I knew but the only Jasper I knew how to _deal_ with. My bitter snarkiness and my blatant disregard for his opinions or wants made it easy to function around him. Well, perhaps not easy, but tolerable. Tolerable because it was all I knew. Jasper, well, he was fucking excited right then and I didn't know whether to share in his excitement and smile at him or cave into myself because something catastrophic and more sinister was about to unfold.

My stomach rolled over on itself and I shut my eyes.

"And though they are true," he said, "and although you spoke of things that are undoubtedly a fact, Bella, the difference between is that you did it with the complete understanding that it would undoubtedly be the last time you saw me."

I felt the armrests rise under my propped elbows and knew he had let go of them. 

"Bella," he said. "Bella, Bella, Bella. Aside from Edward and my father, who are both required to remain in my life purely out of familial obligation, no one has spoken to me the way you did for the exact reason you intended. I live in a world of people who are required to do as I command. A countless number of bodies whose only purpose is to bend to my will. And, until this very moment, I had yet to encounter a single person, a single other human being, who has done otherwise with the exact knowledge the outcome of such action would entail." He chuckled. "Yes, I have dealt with insubordination. But it was always the passive-aggressive type and was almost immediately apologized for. And when it was not, those people were dismissed."

My eyes were still closed.

"Bella, no person in almost a decade has said what I know to be true. No other person has ever been able to adequately express these behaviors of mine so eloquently and so without shame. As you did last night." He paused. "God, Bella, look at me!"

So I did. And I immediately wished I hadn't. He had risen and was pacing in a rather frantic motion across the length of his desk. His hands were balled and tightly held behind his back, forcing his torso to hunch forward. The awkward curve of his spine and the disheveled mess of his hair . . . I didn't like it.

"Jasper," I breathed. "Stop pacing. You're making me feel sick."

He did, but it was with effort.

"Bella," he said, his voice more even. "For the first time in almost ten years, I have respect for another human being. I have been waiting, Bella, for someone to speak to me the way you did last night. God, the people I work for fear me. The friends I have treat me with a god-like reverence. I had almost given up hope. But when you came into my office and demanded I speak with you, I already knew what was to come. Bella, you are with whom I am meant to be. I know this as simply and precisely as I know that I am the wealthiest and most intelligent man in a 500-mile radius."

I swallowed bile. Not because what he said made me feel particularly sick or anything, but because, with those paragraphs of words, Jasper had sealed my fate.

Jasper had sealed my fate.

I hated him. Hated everything about him. But I needed him. And if I were to reject his contract, if I turned around and left his house now, my panic attacks would resume their control over my life.

I had spent three years subjected to them.

And I couldn't, for the sake of my own fucked up sanity, and for the sanity of Emmett (and Rosalie, though I really didn't want to admit it), and for my own person sanctity, the respect I no longer had for myself but was desperate to regain, I could not leave Jasper.

"And if I say no?" I whispered.

Even though he was already standing above me, he still raised his chin. "Then I will ask you to leave."

I don't remember doing it. Months later, I could not say with absolute certainty that it was even my name I wrote on the contract. I certainly didn't write the proper date. But the next thing I knew, Jasper was kissing me.

And again, as it had so many times before, my body was burning alive.

This is what it should have felt like to kiss Edward. The flames blooming in my chest until I swear to god I could feel the licks of them in my fingers and toes. The burning need, forever insatiable by the pure untouchableness of Jasper, was burning my nerves, my bones, until I could almost feel my marrow bubbling under the pressure of it all. A thin sheen of sweat marred my skin, making some parts flushed with excitement and others white with terror. I could feel the blush on my cheeks but the clamminess on my palms and fingers.

If ever my body had been pulled in two opposite directions but too equally strong forces, it was then. A part of me raged against the idea of giving my body to Jasper. I wanted to protect whatever part of myself I could from him. My mind was already his; my purpose here was to allow him to mold and shape the contents of my brain, of my mind, to alleviate my subconscious demons. But my body, my sanctuary, the flesh and hair, my skin and, well, and my heart, needed to stay separated. Needed to remain mine . . . and perhaps, needed to remain a little bit of Edward's.

"No?"

The word was not spoken by me, but by Jasper.

"What do you mean by 'no'?"

My body went cold. He had pulled away, far enough that only his hands were touching me, cupping the backs of my elbows.

"Did I say that?" I asked, trying to lean back towards him.

"You did," he said.

"I didn't mean it."

His eyes darkened. "Did you not, though?"

"Nope," I said. When he didn't make a motion back towards me, I sighed. "Jesus, Jasper. Just kiss me!"

He pulled away further and I built a groan in my throat. I gripped the back of his arms and tried pulling him back towards me, but in a swift motion that resembled the way a human looks attempting to fly, he untangled himself from my hands.

"Jesus effing Christ, Jasper," I said. "Do you want to kiss me or not?"

"Jasper?" he echoed.

My heart rate dropped so quickly I became dizzy. "I-I'm sorry, I don't – " I shook my head, trying to relieve myself of the lightheadedness that was making the edges of my vision turn dark. "I'm not used to – I'm trying – "

"It is quite fine, Bella," he clipped. "I understand there will be a slight adjustment period."

I bowed my head. "Yes . . . Master."

He groaned, a deep throaty sound that sounded more beautifully animalistic than anything human. "Yes, Bella. _Yes_."

We moved to my bed.

I wanted his hands on me, all over me. I thought of the last week of unadulterated torture as I watched his beautiful body move and speak. His long fingers, his unruly curls, his pouting pink mouth . . . and I wanted it all. I wanted it to be _mine_.

Our clothes were off long before our touches became more than playful groping. He didn't pull the covers down from my bed, only pushed me onto it and climbed on top of me, his lithe body making quick work of mine until I was squirming underneath him and begging for no part of my body to be left undiscovered by his hands, his mouth.

I wanted him to scream my name.

When I was sure I wouldn't be able to stand the feathery touches and chaste kisses, he pressed the entire length of his body against mine. I cried out his name.

"Bella," he said. He placed a series of soft kisses up the edge of my neck and towards my ear, nipping the skin of my jaw as he moved. "You drive me absolutely mad."

He removed the plastic sheath from my nose, pulling the skin around the bandages taut before removing the tape, making sure it was as painless as possible. He pressed his lips to the tip of my nose and instead of kissing it, just let them rest there.

I began to cry.

I wrapped my arms around his torso, scratching my nails on the skin of his back until I felt his chest vibrate with a soft growl. I ran my hands further down his back until I reached the perfectly sculptured mounds of his ass. I cupped it, digging my fingernails into the soft flesh and smiled as he gave a guttural groan in response.

"Jasper," I breathed against his neck. With a final thrust of his tongue around my earlobe, he pulled his head around to look at me. I was uncomfortable with what I saw; instead of the soft, lust-filled eyes that any normal guy would have been sporting, I was met with a look of needy desperation. He looked so abjectly sad. As though this moment would be the end-all to a life of sexual tirades.

"Jasper?" I breathed.

"Bella," he said, matching my breathy tone.

"I want to feel you."

He raised himself up on his hands. I traced the sharp indents of where his muscles left deep pockets of shadows on his flesh of his arms.

"You are so beautiful," I said. My eyes moved from his arms to his face, where he was watching me with an undefined expression. "Touch me."

With his legs still wrapped around mine, he shifted his weight to one arm. He brought his hands down and kneaded one of my breasts, running the soft skin underneath his fingers. I watched my nipple harden to his touch. He ran the pad of his thumb across the pink bud. I moaned and he pinched it delicately between his fingers.

My body was on fire. And he was the cause.

I ran my fingers through his curls, gripping the strands at the base of his head as he traced a pattern with his tongue around the outer edge of my nipple. He nuzzled his face between my breasts, taking long, languid licks of the skin there. When I was sure I wouldn't be able to stand it . . . wouldn't be able to handle another fucking second of that tortuous foreplay, he spread my legs and positioned himself over me.

Again, I cried his name.

Instead of going further, he rocked back on his heels to stare at my body. Aside from the nicotine addiction, I had treated my body well over the years and, judging by his carefully controlled expression, he was hardly immune to its accurate proportions.

"_You_ are beautiful," he said.

He pulled himself flush against my body and ground his hips into mine. I could feel him; feel the soft, albeit quite firm, shape and delicious length of him. He moved his hips forward running the length of himself from my navel, then downward. Back and forth, back and forth, until I was twisting the comforter of the bed between my fists and arching my torso into his chest.

"Fuck," I breathed. "Damnit, Jasper."

He chuckled and pressed his cheek against mine, letting me hear his ragged breathing.

"I want you inside me."

He grinned against the side of my face. "Yes." His hot breath caused a series of goosebumps to spring from my neck downward. My eyes were closed, too tightly to even consider opening them, but I heard him chuckle.

"You really need to stop doing that to me," I said.

And without another moment wasted on unnecessary preamble, he pushed himself inside me.

"_Jesus_," I said, trying to relax my muscles. "Jesus.

He didn't move for a few long seconds and I opened one eye cautiously. His head was bowed towards my stomach, his eyes shut as tightly as mine had been.

"Jasper?"

When I said his name, he began to move. At first, his movements were controlled and even, but after a few moments, his pace quickened. Without warning, he threw one of my legs to the opposite side of his body until my legs were pressed together and I was lying on my side. I watched him as he readjusted himself into a sitting position, one of his hands on the bed, the other gripping my hip with enough pressure to make me wince.

In that moment, I knew it was not me, Bella Swan, that Jasper was fucking. But Bella Swan, Jasper's sub.

He came, shaking and moaning, his eyes squeezed together into painful slits but the rest of his face calm and uncreased. I pressed my thumb to his forehead, forcing wrinkles into the smooth flesh.

When he opened his eyes to look down at me, I wanted to cry. Instead of the needy desperation, the fervent spark of something primal and animalistic that had turned his face from beautiful to something primordial, he was simply Jasper. Calm, bored, indifferent, fucktard Jasper.

He moved off of me and without another glance in my direction, walked out of my room and closed the door behind him.

It was ten minutes later, when I was still waiting for him to return, that I heard the distinctive purr of his Mercedes come to life as it pulled out of the driveway.


	22. Day 7, Part 2: Alice's Threat

**Day 7 – Part 2**

**Alice's Threat**

After Jasper had left and the soft rumble of his car was well beyond my ability to hear, I started to cry. But then I got pissed; hard and really fast and swore I'd exact some sort of modern-day revenge. But seeing as there weren't any statutes erected in his douche-ness to knock over, I did the next best thing.

I called Alice.

Maybe I had spent too much time away from her, or, more likely, I hadn't spent enough time getting to know the batshit craziness that was Alice, but she pulled the most bullshit move I could ever have expected.

I told her as much.

"I'm not _that_ bad," she said. "And I'm pretty sure it's not kidnap if you're not fighting me the whole time."

I gave her a horrified look. "Yeah, you pretty much are. And brush up on your kidnapping laws, sweetheart. Can't beat around that scary, hairy bush."

She turned to me. "Hairy?"

I spread my legs and made a pointed gesture downward.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she said, before turning into her driveway.

"So is like, revenge or something?" I said as we winded around the narrow driveway. "Because if so, it turns out I'm not very good at it."

"Revenge?"

"Yeah," I said, motioning towards the windshield. "For bailing on you guys after Jasper showed up in all his creepiness in Edward's bedroom."

She frowned. "Yes, well. I definitely haven't forgiven you for that. Now that I have to live the pathetic, mopey mess that was the previous Dr. Edward Cullen."

My stomach turned. "Um, yeah. About that. . . ."

After Alice had confessed her devious little kidnapping plan, I had pitched an incredible fit. Trying to open the door – which she had child-locked, naturally – and rolling down the window – which I had managed to sort of climb out of, but, to my ego's dismay, it turned out my hips were too wide - in an effort not to be driven to exactly where I was going.

"It's not revenge," she said. "It's payment."

"It sounds like blackmail. Or battery." I made my voice serious. "Alice, is your intent to threaten me with physical harm if I do not do whatever you tell me to do?"

"I am driving a one-ton vehicle in dangerous snow up a winding path right now," she said. "You tell me."

I sat back in my seat and crossed my arms. "Bitch."

"Fuckface."

I nodded. "I'll have to put that in my vulgar vocabulary arsenal. Well done."

When we finally reached the house, I refused to get out of the car.

"Edward's not here, Bella. He's on a business trip somewhere in the Midwest."

She was standing outside of her car, pressing her little face to the window until it was scrunched up and malformed against the glass.

I shook my head, staring out of the windshield.

"This window is fucking cold," she yelled. She pulled her face off it and rubbed it furiously for a second. "Get out of the car!"

"NO!" I yelled back.

"You're acting like a child!"

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

She paused for a moment and then tried a different approach. "I bought something for you. You have to come see it."

"You elfish little imp," I called through the glass. "I don't care if you bought me the pony I always wanted but never got from my asshole parents. I'm not getting out of the car."

"Fine," she yelled. "Then I'll have to go get it."

I was halfway through congratulating myself with some fist pumping, but when I uncrossed my arms I realized it had gotten cold in the few minutes the car had been shut off. I looked out the windshield in time to see Alice using her keys to get in through the front door. I groaned and slammed my head into the headrest.

_Well, I suppose I may have deserved that, _I thought wryly. _Though better chances are that karma has finally decided to stop letting you do awful things to people and is wrecking havoc on your emotional tranquility._

_Karma is the one wrecking havoc? If I have to get on karma's good side to control my panic, then I am fucked because there is no turning back from all the innocent souls I've corrupted._

I was still staring at the front door. It was open. I spent ten seconds flip-flopping between keeping my pride and getting some warmth before sighing and getting out of the car.

"Alice," I called in a singsong voice as I entered the house. "My dearest Alice. Wherest art thou hiding?"

I kicked off my shoes on the rug in the foyer and shut the door behind me. Immediately, I wished I hadn't. The house, for as little time as I'd spent in it, was heartbreakingly familiar. My stomach twisted a little.

Alice came bounding down the staircase with what was clearly a large garment bag flung over one of her shoulders. I balked and took a step back.

"Oh, fuck no," I said. "We talked about this, Alice! I'm not going to that fucking ball with Edward."

Ignoring me, she put the bag over one edge of the stairway.

I continued to yell. "One, Bella doesn't dance. Two, there is no effing way you're going to find me in anything that even resembles a dress. And three –"

She had unzipped the bag and took a step back from it to show me the contents. I stopped talking at once.

Black, fitting, some weird taffeta material I didn't know the name of, two thin straps over one shoulder and nothing over the other, floor-length, a weird but simple starburst of tiny sparkly gems that began on the left hip and spread outwards.

I closed my mouth.

"Exactly," she said. "And it cost almost a grand, so if you don't wear it I'm going to make you eat it instead." When I didn't say anything more, she smiled and crossed her arms. "The ball is tomorrow. Be prepared."

"Tomorrow?" I said. "But how the hell – that's too soon."

She screwed up her face into an exasperated expression. "Um, no, it's not. I did tell you about it a few days ago, saying it was in a few days. This is your fault. Suck it up."

I looked back at the dress and felt a yearning sort of tug on my chest. "What about Jasper?"

"You'll be there if I have to chloroform Jasper and lock him in his playroom to do it."

I felt my face drop. "But Edward," I hedged. "He doesn't think . . ."

"No," she said, her voice a little sharp. "He knows it's only business." She gave me a reproachful look. "Despite the fact that you fucked him an ran." I winced. "Him and his dad put on a fundraiser every year for kids and teens with type 1 diabetes. He took me last year, but I'm not keen on going again."

I couldn't keep my eyes off the dress. I'm pretty sure there was some sort of air conditioning vent over it or some mythical being that was enticing me to wear it, because it was fluttering and shimming and being beautiful all over the place.

"Oh?" I asked.

"Well," she said. "Actually, Edward's father banned me from going. I threw up on the chief of medicine last year. Kind of gross."

"Ew."

"Yeah."

I heard the muffle sounds of my phone trilling somewhere in the depths of my purse, signaling a text message. I sent Alice an amused look before digging through the contents of my purse to find it. But before I had extracted it completely from my purse's endless depths, Alice gave a small sigh.

I looked over at her as I retrieved the phone.

"What's up?" I asked. She was looking at the dress and smiling in a sad sort of way.

I flicked the phone open and stared at the LCD screen.

_Tanya and I have arrived back at home. Please join us for supper._

I nodded slowly. "You know who it is."

She nodded and looked at the dress. I watched her eyes follow the seamless streams of billowing fabric in slow, languid flickers. Her eyes were black, which despite the resemblance to her hair, really didn't suit her.

Then she blinked and her eyes remained closed for longer than was strictly necessary for the purpose of whatever a blink does. When she opened them, they were on me.

"Please, Alice . . ." I started, my voice taking on a desperate edge. "Please, I need this. I need someone who won't use kid gloves on me. I need an asshole who can tell me to knock it the fuck off without worrying about hurting my feelings. I need someone to tell me "do this" or "don't do that." I have to get someone who can fix me. Edward . . . he's good. But he caters to me. Which is fine, I mean, hell yeah, you know? But if he's mollycoddling me, I'm not going to want to change. I need an asshole." I paused. "I need a Jasper."

"I know," she said. "I just wish it could be different." She brought her shoulders upward in a shrug, but her entire body seemed to collapse under the weight of them. "If you had met Edward before Jasper. Maybe Edward would have convinced you to see a doctor. You could be living with us, happy and secure, with a guy who loved you and a girl who wanted nothing more than to be your best friend. Whenever I saw you, I wouldn't have to see Jasper, too. Whenever you left, maybe Edward wouldn't be convinced it was the last time he'd ever see you. It could have been wonderful. Then, maybe we all could have been happy." She sighed. "Instead, we're all a little miserable, aren't we?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm just – I need . . ." I stopped when her eyes went back to the dress. In a sort of blind panic, I shoved my feet back into my shoes and turned towards the front door.

"Before you go," Alice said, her voice tight, "let me call Jasper."

My hand was on the doorknob and it was with some effort that I uncurled my fingers from it. I nodded and pressed my forehead against the smooth wood, fighting a familiar bubbling of nausea.

"Jasper, hello, it's Alice . . . I'm fine, how are you? . . . Glad to hear it. I have a favor to ask you. Edward's ball is tomorrow and I just threatened Bella serious bodily harm if she didn't go but I wanted to be a good girl and check with you first to make sure it was okay." Her voice was surprisingly light and I turned to her, a grin on my face, before I saw her expression. Her eyes were closed and her face was tight with tension. She glanced at me and a slow smile began to form. "Yes, of course. It's at six o'clock tomorrow night . . . No, I already have a dress and shoes and all that. I'm keeping it all hostage tomorrow, so you'll have to bring her over beforehand . . . About four o'clock or so." Her face fell a little and the tips of her ears turned a sharp red. "No, I'll let you work that out with her."

She flipped her phone shut and shoved it in her pocket before grinning at me.

"Bella, my darling. It seems that you're going to be attending a ball."

I sighed. "Like a regular fucking Cinderella." I rubbed my forehead. "Alice – " I began, but she waved a dismissive hand in front of my face.

"Stop," she said. She leveled me with a fierce stare and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck salute in response. "I get it," she said with vehemence. "It's not going to be different. You and Jasper, me and Edward, it's all a little fucked up. I'm just going to have to cross my fingers and that you're able to get out before he makes it impossible for you to leave."

"Impossible . . ."

"Yeah," she said, picking up the dress and throwing it over her shoulder before climbing the stairs. "Impossible."


End file.
